Death or Something Like It
by Elizabeth5
Summary: The final battle has occurred, and Voldemort is defeated, but at a price. Will life move on, or will fate intervene to set things right? HHr, HrD, DG, and a little RL
1. Harry

Death or Something Like It  
  
Author: Elizabethlissag7@juno.com  
  
Rating: Probably more around PG, but I'll PG-13 just to be safe. Some violence and allusions to more adulty things.  
  
Summary: The final battle has taken place, and Harry and co. mourn their losses. Kind of angsty, but will become more hopeful in time.   
  
Ships: H/Hr, D/Hr, H/G..... To be honest, I'm not really sure exactly where this is going to go, ship-wise. Give me your opinion, and I might decide to listen to it. :)  
  
Disclaimer: Sadly, none of these characters are mine. On a side-note, I started a similar fic with Buffy, Angel, and Spike a while back that I never finished. So if you happen to be one of the three people that read that and think that I'm stealing that idea, don't worry. It's mine.  
  
Author's note: I wanted to post these first four sections right away because they all sort of cover the same area, plot-wise. The next installments will be more about moving forward than dwelling on the past. Hope everyone enjoys, and please review.   
  
~Harry~  
  
There were certain golden moments when the world would slow down and become quiet, and it was as though she was there again. He had her memorized down to the very smallest detail, from the feel of her hair against his skin to the freckle underneath her right eye. And he would tell himself that he was dreaming, and he would try, sincerely try, to be content to just look at her and drink in the warmth of her presence. But invariably, he would be overcome with the desire to reach out and touch her, to see if this really was some miracle and not just an illusion. And when he was only centimeters away, she would disappear, and the world would be dead again.  
  
Of course, he could never let on that he was dying inside little by little each day. He was the infamous Harry Potter, the brave warrior who had defeated Voldemort at the tender age of seventeen. The stories that were already becoming legend—even though it had been mere month's since Voldemort's death—all proclaimed that he had never wavered, had never had a moment of weakness throughout the entire battle. The wizarding world was heralding him as a hero; little boys wanted to dress up as the brave Harry Potter for Halloween. It wouldn't do to let everyone know about the look of panic in his eyes when Voldemort grabbed her. It would crush them to hear that he had wept over her body.  
  
So he put on his mask, and he smiled, and he did all of the things that were expected of him. But there were still the occasions, such as this, when his mind would wander back to the day of the battle, to the last conversation he had ever had with her...  
  
***Flashback***  
  
The air was tense, silent. Harry took in a deep breath to steady himself, wondering how best to prepare them for what lay ahead, how best to tell them how very much he cared.  
  
"Remember when we first met?" Ron inquired abruptly, breaking his train of thought.  
  
Harry and Hermione looked at him with amusement and wonder in their eyes. On either side, Ginny and Neville looked on in detached interest; though they had been through much with the little trio, they were wise enough to know that there would always be a connection between Ron, Harry, and Hermione that they would not be privy to.  
  
" We were aboard the Hogwarts Express," Ron reminded them, smiling lightly, "and Harry and I were clinging to one another because we didn't know anyone else, and then into our compartment walks this mass of hair, asking if we've seen Neville's toad-- " " Trevor," Harry finished for him.  
  
Hermione smiled wistfully. "And I told you that you had dirt on your nose, Ron—do you remember?" Her eyes glazed over as she became lost in thought. "I'd seen you both before at the train station but was too shy to introduce myself, so I had to come up with a plausible reason."  
  
Harry met her gaze. "I'm glad you did." he said quietly.  
  
A moment passed between the three friends, and then Draco appeared at the doorway of the room. " Dumbledore's ready for you," he informed them briskly.  
  
Harry was suddenly all business. " All right. Neville, you go ahead with Draco to join Snape's group." The two boys complied. Harry turned to his red-haired companions. " Ron, you and Ginny head east to join with Lupin's forces."  
  
The Weasleys started toward the door. Ginny abruptly stopped and turned back to kiss Harry goodbye. They'd been dating for the past year and a half, and things had grown understandably serious between them in the past few months. Impending death and destruction could have that sort of effect. He gripped her arms now as they kissed, wanting to say so many things but unable to do so.  
  
" Ginny." Ron beckoned from the doorway. Reluctantly, Ginny turned and followed after him, shooting a lingering glance at Harry as she did so.  
  
That left Harry and Hermione. He smiled wryly to himself. It seemed that almost every time there was some grand adventure, it inevitably came down to him and Hermione.   
  
Sensing his amusement, Hermione searched his face. " What is it?" she probed.  
  
" I'll tell you later," Harry promised. They started toward the door. " We're going to be joining Dumbledore's front, on the west."  
  
It was strategic planning, really. When Voldemort came after Harry—as he knew he would—he would no doubt bring along his scores of followers. Peter Pettigrew, the Goyles, Lucius Malfoy, and all the others. Harry's friends had been preparing themselves, training, practicing, so that they could take on the Death Eaters when they came. But Harry wanted his big guns at the front, in case Voldemort overpowered him—and that meant Dumbledore, and Hermione. Above everyone else, he trusted her at his back. She was incapable of failing.  
  
" Harry," Hermione said suddenly as they reached the door. He turned to her questioningly. Reaching out to hold his hand, she opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't bear to say the words. Neither of them could.  
  
Instead, eyes glistening, she moved forward to kiss him on the cheek, as she had done so many years ago at the end of their fourth year of Hogwarts. Harry waited for the kiss, and then whether by instinct or impulse he wasn't certain, turned his face ever so slightly so that their lips came in contact.  
  
They remained like that for a few moments, both surprised, then pulled back. "Come on," Harry instructed lightly, " let's go find Dumbledore..."  
  
***End of Flashback***  
  
There was a slight tap at his shoulder. Harry turned, startled, to see Ron standing behind him. Ron was smiling, his green eyes kind as he met his best friend's gaze. He had changed so much the past few years, no longer the awkward red-head who was too tall and too freckled for his own good. He was still tall, but the rest of his body seemed to have caught up with his height, and the majority of his freckles had faded with his childhood. He was a man, now; Harry wished it wasn't so.  
  
" Well, we've graduated," Ron said with a lightness that neither of them felt, "how does it feel?"  
  
In all truthfulness, it felt empty. So many chairs had been left vacant, out of respect to those who were still recovering from the battle and those who never would recover. The most noticeable of those being Hermione's chair, of course.  
  
" It feels good," Harry lied, and forced a smile.   
  
Ron didn't believe him, of course, but this was all part of the little game they played. They would pretend everything was all right and hope that, eventually, everything would be all right again.  
  
" Mum's organized a graduation party at the Burrow," Ron informed him. "You're to be the guest of honor, of course. I don't know if anyone even remembers I've graduated—not with the famous Harry Potter in the same class." He shook his head ruefully. " I've tried everything I could think of to stand out—remember that month I used that Muggle product and dyed my hair purple? Thought Dad would skin me for sure..."  
  
Harry smiled, genuinely this time. " I remember." He put an arm fondly around his best friend's shoulder. " Come on. Let's see what your mum has cooking. I'm starving..." 


	2. Draco

Death or Something Like It  
  
Author: Elizabethlissag7@juno.com  
  
Rating: Probably more around PG, but I'll PG-13 just to be safe. Some violence and allusions to more adulty things.  
  
Summary: The final battle has taken place, and Harry and co. mourn their losses. Kind of angsty, but will become more hopeful in time.   
  
Ships: H/Hr, D/Hr, H/G..... To be honest, I'm not really sure exactly where this is going to go, ship-wise. Give me your opinion, and I might decide to listen to it. :)  
  
Disclaimer: Sadly, none of these characters are mine. On a side-note, I started a similar fic with Buffy, Angel, and Spike a while back that I never finished. So if you happen to be one of the three people that read that and think that I'm stealing that idea, don't worry. It's mine.  
  
Author's note: I wanted to post these first four sections right away because they all sort of cover the same area, plot-wise. The next installments will be more about moving forward than dwelling on the past. Hope everyone enjoys, and please review.   
  
~Draco~  
  
He watched unobtrusively from behind one of the yard's many massive trees, his eyes trained steadfastly on the window of the Burrow. The graduation party was in full swing now. He recognized almost everyone: Snape, looking decidedly out of place among the festivities; Bill with his newly grown and meticulously clipped goatee; Hagrid hunched over so that he could fit into the place at all. There were others of course, but none of them mattered so much as the one he was watching.   
  
As he took his last puff of the now-diminished cigarette, Draco could almost hear her voice in his head, berating him. " Draco," she would chide if she were here, " you know how bad smoking is for you. And besides, it's an awfully bad habit to get into just to look cool, when all it does is make you look ridiculous."  
  
She was wrong, of course. He looked friggin' cool and she knew it.  
  
He observed the party distantly, angry at himself for that little twinge of disappointment that he hadn't been invited. Like it was his idea of a fun time to hang out with a bunch of do-gooders, anyway. The only worthwhile one of the bunch was dead, and he didn't much fancy getting to know the rest of them. Still, he'd been just as influential in the final fight as any of them, but they all seemed keen and ready to forget about it.  
  
" Draco who?" he muttered to himself. " What did he ever do for us? Besides turning his back on his family and risking his life to get us valuable information that helped us destroy the ultimate evil hell-bent on destroying the world, that is? Bleedin' idiots, the lot of them."  
  
Of course, if he was being honest, he had to admit that they were right in questioning his motives. If he were in their place, he would doubt, too. And for good reason. He didn't care about their band of heroes. He didn't care about saving the world. He had only ever really cared for one person, and she was gone now.  
  
So why was he here now, watching the Burrow like some sort of idiotic guard dog? " Certainly not for the company," he mumbled, noting with great distaste as Mr. Weasley came downstairs in a Muggle Hawaiian print shirt. No, it wasn't for the Weasleys, or the giant, or even for Dumbledore who was quite possibly the only do-gooder who had ever garnered his respect. It was for Harry Bleedin' Potter, the boy who had lived.   
  
***Flashback***  
  
When Draco was certain that no one was watching, he slipped away from the crowd and into the room that Hermione had just disappeared into. It was empty, save be for the familiar slender frame.   
  
He opened his mouth to speak her name, but something stopped him. Her back was turned toward him, and she was staring out of the window into the countryside, her posture oddly relaxed despite the dangers that they would soon be facing. He took a moment to drink her in.   
  
Draco was confident that he knew Hermione Granger better than anyone else in the world. Over the past few months, they had been drawn together by some unspoken bond. It had been culminating for years, but neither of them had been willing to admit to it until now. Their relationship was rather vague; they met in secrecy, they laughed, they spoke of their innermost selves, they bickered, and they kissed.  
  
It was all very strange to him, but wonderful, and precious. This girl made him marvel, as no one else had ever been able to do. There was, of course, her dizzying intellect, her bravery, her compassion. But then there were the smaller things, like her delicate little wrists that could make a man vow to protect her, yet carried a strength that few could comprehend.   
  
As if sensing his presence, she turned and met his gaze. There was a sudden fleeting smile, but it could not conceal the darkness in her eyes. Concerned, he stepped forward. " Hey, what is it?"  
  
Hermione shook her head quickly. " Nothing, I just... Draco, how many NEWTS did you get?"  
  
Taken aback by this, Draco studied her quizzically. " Thirteen, remember? We've discussed this before."  
  
She nodded, scarcely seeming to have heard him. " And you have that job lined up for you at the Ministry...but if something else came up, something more important, you would do that instead, right?"  
  
" I guess," Draco returned, thoroughly confused now. He took her gently by the arms. " Hermione, what is all this about?"  
  
" I want you to make me a promise," Hermione rushed suddenly, looking intently into his eyes, " that you'll do something for me, if something happens."  
  
He wanted to interject that nothing would happen to her, that she'd be absolutely fine, but it all seemed to horribly melodramatic. Instead, he nodded. " All right." He frowned as a sudden thought struck him. " You don't want me to take over SPEW, do you?"  
  
Hermione shook her head. " No." She stopped, pondering this. " Well..."  
  
" Hermione..."  
  
She took in a deep breath. " I want you to promise to watch after Harry."   
  
There was that name again. Draco tried to keep his face impassive, but it burrowed deep into his gut to hear her say that name. Of all the secrets they had shared, she had never spoken of her feelings for Harry, but he knew. Just as he knew that the sun would always rise in the east and white really shouldn't be worn after Labor Day, he knew that she loved him.  
  
" Harry's a big boy," he said finally. " He can take care of himself."  
  
" Draco, please," Hermione said, her eyes wide and very solemn, " please promise me that you'll do this."  
  
He swore under his breath. " Granger, you infuriate me, you realize that?" Her eyes were shining, already knowing his answer. Draco reluctantly nodded. " Yeah, fine, I'll watch after Harry."  
  
She wrapped her arms around him, enveloping him in her Hermione scent. "Thank you," she murmured softly.  
  
***End of Flashback*** 


	3. Ginny

Death or Something Like It  
  
Author: Elizabethlissag7@juno.com  
  
Rating: Probably more around PG, but I'll PG-13 just to be safe. Some violence and allusions to more adulty things.  
  
Summary: The final battle has taken place, and Harry and co. mourn their losses. Kind of angsty, but will become more hopeful in time.   
  
Ships: H/Hr, D/Hr, H/G..... To be honest, I'm not really sure exactly where this is going to go, ship-wise. Give me your opinion, and I might decide to listen to it. :)  
  
Disclaimer: Sadly, none of these characters are mine. On a side-note, I started a similar fic with Buffy, Angel, and Spike a while back that I never finished. So if you happen to be one of the three people that read that and think that I'm stealing that idea, don't worry. It's mine.  
  
Author's note: I wanted to post these first four sections right away because they all sort of cover the same area, plot-wise. The next installments will be more about moving forward than dwelling on the past. Hope everyone enjoys, and please review.   
  
~Ginny~  
  
Of course, she was not so daft as to not recognize that he was hurting. When she was being romantic, she would tell people that she had loved Harry Potter from the first moment that she met him. Which wasn't true-- not really. She had been infatuated with him, of course, had practically worshipped him, but it hadn't been until the past few months that she had grown to love him. Like most people could sense a change in the weather, she could detect an alteration in his mood. And though he put on the pretense of being happy now, of being normal, she knew that he hadn't stopped mourning. Not since Hermione died.  
  
Truth be told, she didn't really know what this meant. Being a female, she had always carried a tiny jealousy toward Hermione. No matter how much Harry grew to love her, there would always be that bond with Hermione. Whether he realized it or not, he carried her on a pedestal, which no other girl could possibly reach.   
  
But at the same time, Ginny knew that Harry loved her. Fate had brought them together, and fate wouldn't be cruel enough to take him away now.   
  
Still, as she watched him from across the room at his and Ron's graduation party, her mind couldn't help but wander. She saw a sudden image of him cradling Hermione's body in his arms and sobbing. Never in her life had she seen anyone cry like that; it terrified her still.  
  
Quickly, Ginny shook her head to clear her thoughts. Then, forcing a smile, she made her way across the room and linked her arm through Harry's. He looked at her in that same dazed way that he almost always did these days, then smiled. " Hey, Ginny."  
  
" Hey, yourself," she teased lightly. " Come on, walk with me outside. I need some fresh air."  
  
Obligingly, he followed after her. They walked through the darkened night, winding their way through the thicket until they had reached their tree. A scene flashed quickly before her eyes, of Harry teasingly pulling her out here, necking with her behind the tree. One time, not too long ago, he had taken out his wand and solemnly inscribed their initials into the bark. That had been just a week before the battle.  
  
Wonderingly, Harry reached out and traced his thumb over the scab of the bark. HG + GW it read.   
  
Ginny let him have his moment, then tentatively reached out and touched his arm. " Harry...?" she inquired.  
  
In an instant, he had turned to her and crushed his lips onto hers. Surprised, Ginny stumbled back a bit, then readily complied. His kisses had never been this way before; all of the sweet hesitancy was gone, replaced by a desperate urgency. Still, for once it seemed as though he was living, and that was something. 


	4. Ron

Death or Something Like It  
  
Author: Elizabethlissag7@juno.com  
  
Rating: Probably more around PG, but I'll PG-13 just to be safe. Some violence and allusions to more adulty things.  
  
Summary: The final battle has taken place, and Harry and co. mourn their losses. Kind of angsty, but will become more hopeful in time.   
  
Ships: H/Hr, D/Hr, H/G..... To be honest, I'm not really sure exactly where this is going to go, ship-wise. Give me your opinion, and I might decide to listen to it. :)  
  
Disclaimer: Sadly, none of these characters are mine. On a side-note, I started a similar fic with Buffy, Angel, and Spike a while back that I never finished. So if you happen to be one of the three people that read that and think that I'm stealing that idea, don't worry. It's mine.  
  
Author's note: I wanted to post these first four sections right away because they all sort of cover the same area, plot-wise. The next installments will be more about moving forward than dwelling on the past. Hope everyone enjoys, and please review.   
  
~Ron~  
  
Among those who had witnessed the final battle, there was a sort of unspoken agreement that the truth of that day would be kept a secret. The wizarding world knew, of course, that Hermione had given her life for the cause. But no one quite knew the whole story.  
  
This was done more out of protection for Harry than respect for Hermione. There was no reason that anyone would think less of her for what she had done; on the contrary, it would prove that much more what an extraordinary person she was. Rather, it was the realization that it would kill Harry to have it be common knowledge that kept them quiet.  
  
More than anyone else, Ron felt a sense of loss from that day. He loved Harry and Hermione, almost as though they were extensions of himself. And in that battle, he'd lost both of them: Hermione to the grave, and Harry to wherever he was right now.  
  
It wasn't that he blamed Harry for his melancholy. Rather, it was that this whole thing was so unexpected. Going into battle, he'd been worried about Ginny and Neville and his parents, but mostly Harry. It seemed like there was this sort of prophetic quality to Harry's existence, and when Voldemort died, Ron feared that he would take the Boy Who Lived right along with him. And though he valued Hermione's friendship just as much as Harry's, he was wise enough to realize that without Harry, there wouldn't be much of a friendship. He was the common link that held them together.   
  
Ron had never really feared that anything would happen to him, and especially not to Hermione. But somehow, he had always imagined that if something did happen to him, Harry and Hermione would go on being friends, and that if anything happened to Hermione, he and Harry would be just as close as they were before.   
  
Nothing had happened according to plan. Harry emerged with no physical wounds that Madame Pomfrey couldn't handle, and Hermione died. But instead of turning to each other in their grief, as Ron had always expected that best friends would do, he and Harry were practically strangers now. Oh, they put up the pretense of being friends, and he knew that he would still die for Harry if the need arose, and vice-versa, but there was an immeasurable distance between them that both seemed unable to cross.  
  
Sighing, he retreated into the pantry momentarily, trying to overcome the sudden burst of melancholy that overcame him. This wasn't the way life was supposed to be. It was the eve of his graduation from Hogwarts, the day he had been anticipating for years. He and Harry and Hermione should all be wearing their best dress robes, laughing and drinking butterbeer and fondly recalling the good old days.   
  
No one could have predicted the way that it all happened. No one.  
  
***Flashback***  
  
Ron reached up his arms to brace himself, but it was too late. The force of the spell hit him full blast, causing him to literally soar head over-heels in the air, crashing into the tree behind him. He hit the trunk with a groan and slid down onto his back, staring up in a daze. Something had snapped on impact; he hoped it wasn't a bone that he used too much.  
  
Wincing from the pain, he rose to his feet, turning to face the Death Eater, who was grinning madly. With all of the strength that he could muster, Ron lifted his wand and shakily pointed it at the other wizard. " Expeli--" he stopped, noticing for the first time that his wand had broken cleanly in half. Hence, the snap.  
  
Irritated, he dropped the wand and advanced on the Death Eater, who merely grinned. " What're you gonna do, boy?" the nameless man sneered. " Looks like you've lost your power."  
  
Wordlessly, Ron reared back and decked the Death Eater straight in the jaw. The man fell in a heap to the ground, letting out a whimper. Ron stood over him triumphantly. "How's that for power?" he inquired, rubbing at his fist as he glanced about the Muggle park they were in and shrugged. " When in Rome..."  
  
" HARRY!"  
  
Recognizing his sister's voice, Ron whirled about, preparing to rush to Ginny's rescue. Instead, his gaze fell upon the forefront of the battle, where Harry and the newly embodied Voldemort were facing off. Voldemort was using some sort of magical hold on Harry and had levitated him into the air. Harry was fighting like mad to free himself, but the hold was cutting off his breath, and it was readily apparent that he was suffocating to death.  
  
Many people were moving at once, trying to make it there in time. Ron, himself, started forward, but his legs felt like lead. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dumbledore forcing his way through the crowd, and Mad Eye Moody from the other side.  
  
Instead, it was Hermione who reached them first. With a scream, she threw herself at Voldemort, interrupting his concentration. Harry dropped to the ground, gasping for breath.  
  
His eyes blazing with rage, Voldemort placed a steely hand on Hermione's arm. "Foolish girl!" he seethed. " You've saved your friend's life momentarily, but at what price?"  
  
Harry was struggling to rise to his feet, his face frantic. " Hermione!"  
  
As Ron watched in wonder, Hermione looked up and met Voldemort's gaze, her eyes glinting. Determinedly, she closed her eyes and began to chant low under her breath.   
  
Voldemort staggered away from her, noticeably fazed. " What magic is this?" he hissed as his hands began to tremble violently.   
  
Hermione ignored him and continued to chant. " Stop it!" the Dark Lord commanded. " Stop it this instant!"  
  
Ron felt a burst of hope inside of him. It was working. Whatever Hermione was doing, it was working.  
  
Hermione's eyes shot open, and it seemed suddenly that she was glowing. "With my love," she murmured, " he will rise. Through my love, he will defeat you-- "  
  
But before he could finish, Voldemort reached forward and grabbed her with both hands, just above the neck. There was a sudden sharp crack, and then Hermione slumped to the ground.  
  
It all happened so quickly that Ron scarcely had time to process what had just taken place. The entire battle seemed to quiet for a moment; blood pounded in his ears, making it impossible to hear.  
  
It wasn't until Harry screamed that Ron regained control of his senses. It was a blood-curdling scream, savage and horrible and terrifying. He shot to his feet and rushed at the Dark Lord, brandishing his wand. He began to shout incantations in languages that were foreign to Ron's ears, languages that perhaps had never been uttered by a human tongue before. Later, Harry would admit that he hadn't realized exactly what it was he was saying.  
  
Voldemort held out his hands in front of his face, as though trying to block himself. Harry continued to shout until his face was red from it. Wildly, Voldemort began to tremble. There was an odd glow that seemed to start from his very core and spread throughout his entire body.   
  
And then, there was a flash of light, and Voldemort was gone. Only, unlike those times before, Ron felt a sudden weight lift from his shoulders, and he knew instinctively that Voldemort was really and truly dead.  
  
There was a moment of silence, and then a unanimous cheer arose from the forces of good. Ron felt himself smiling, too, until he remembered what had happened. Slowly, his gaze turned back to the clearing where Voldemort had stood only moments before.   
  
Harry was dragging himself across the ground, his body scarcely able to support him. He collapsed beside Hermione and then drew himself up alongside her. "Hermione," he said tentatively, nudging her gently, " Hermione, please..."  
  
A hush fell over the crowd. Even the Death Eaters were watching in solemn silence, now. With a moan unlike anything Ron had ever heard, Harry gathered Hermione into his arms and began to sob—or, at least, that was the closest thing to which Ron could equate it. It was the sound of a heart breaking, the sound of a soul dying.   
  
Ignoring everyone else around him, Harry continued to rock Hermione in his arms and wail. 


	5. the Dreame

Death or Something Like It  
  
Author: Elizabethlissag7@juno.com  
  
Rating: Probably more around PG, but I'll PG-13 just to be safe. Some violence and allusions to more adulty things.  
  
Summary: The final battle has taken place, and Harry and co. mourn their losses. Kind of angsty, but will become more hopeful in time.   
  
Ships: H/Hr, D/Hr, H/G..... To be honest, I'm not really sure exactly where this is going to go, ship-wise. Give me your opinion, and I might decide to listen to it. :)  
  
Disclaimer: Sadly, none of these characters are mine. On a side-note, I started a similar fic with Buffy, Angel, and Spike a while back that I never finished. So if you happen to be one of the three people that read that and think that I'm stealing that idea, don't worry. It's mine.  
  
After trailing behind Harry and Ginny for the first little bit, Draco had unfortunately been privy to a snogging session between Hogwarts' favorite couple and then opted to immediately leave. That sort of thing could really scar a man.  
  
At least that was one aspect of Hermione's departure that was positive, Draco mused ruefully. More times than he could count, Hermione would come to him weeping plaintively, her heart clearly in the continual process of breaking. And though she never so much as said the words, Draco had a clear idea as to what the cause of her sorrow was: Harry Potter.   
  
Of course it was Harry. The stupid git didn't realize what he had right in front of him. Sure, Ginny was a nice enough girl, and there was no doubting that she was gorgeous as no member of the Weasley family had ever conceived before, but she wasn't Hermione. And as such, there was no way that she could possibly love Harry as much as Hermione did.  
  
In the closest conversation that she had ever come to admitting her feelings for Harry, Hermione had explained her relationship with her best friend to Draco. "Harry and I were meant to be friends," she had said, " I knew it from that first moment he saved me from the troll. We're connected somehow, he and I. If he's sad, I can feel it, and if he's happy, it's like I'm on some sort of drug. I don't know what would become of me if something ever happened to him...I'd be only half a person."  
  
He sensed somehow that she wasn't being sentimental, that she truly, sincerely, would only exist halfway if Harry was no longer part of her life. So maybe it was better this way. Maybe it was better that Hermione had gone on before Harry rather than become some shell of her former self.  
  
Draco shook his head quickly. No. A world with even half of Hermione was better than a world without her at all.  
  
Taking in a deep breath, he stopped in the familiar spot, dropping down so that he was squatting near the ground. With more gentleness than most believed he was capable of, he reached out and traced his hand over the stone before him.  
  
'Hermione Granger,' the tombstone read. 'Beloved daughter and friend. The world is truly better for her.'  
  
"Well," Draco said after a moment of silence, "here I am. I suppose you would take more comfort if dear Harry was here, but he's currently busy attacking the youngest Weasley, so I suppose you'll have to make due with me."  
  
For a moment, he half expected her to answer. Shaking his head, he sighed. "It's been sixty-four days now, Hermione. Just a little over two months." He took in a deep breath, steadying his voice. "You know, if you had asked me sixty-five days ago what I would be doing now, I would've called you a bleedin' lunatic if you would've said I'd be in a cemetery. And if you would've told me that it would be your grave that I was visiting, I would've killed you on the spot for making such a sick joke." He paused, running the words over in his mind. "In retrospect, I suppose that would really be working against myself, wouldn't it?"  
  
He laughed suddenly, ducking his head. "Now, you're probably thinking to yourself, Draco's an incredibly handsome, dashing young man—incredibly, ridiculously handsome—so what is he doing at a graveyard on a Friday night all by his lonesome?" His features suddenly became sober. "Well, I came to let you know that I'm fulfilling my promise the best I know how. I'm watching after your beloved Harry, just as you asked. And I know that last time I promised that I wouldn't be visiting here as often, but...well, I'm working on it. I just...I can't bear the thought of you being lonely out here, Granger."  
  
Taking in a deep breath, he had just opened his mouth to say something further when a stick snapped somewhere behind him. Tensing, he turned, scanning the darkness behind him. Harry stepped forward, fists clenched as he observed Draco warily with his vibrant green eyes.  
  
"Malfoy," Harry said, and somehow had the ability to make the name seem really and truly ugly, "what are you doing here?"  
  
Draco rose to his feet, meeting Harry's gaze coolly. "Last time I checked, this was public domain, Potter." He spat the name with great dislike. "Besides, didn't think it would much bother you, seeing as how you were running off somewhere with that Weasley girl."  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow. "How did you know that I was with Ginny?"  
  
Draco swore at himself inwardly, cursing his own stupidity. "Just a lucky guess,"   
  
he adlibbed, "you're always with one of those Weasleys. Now that..." But even to hurt Harry, he couldn't finish the sentence.  
  
Harry's eyes hardened at the allusion. "You have no right to be here," he said coldly. "Leave."  
  
Draco felt a hot rush of anger flood through him. "Who made you the bleedin' graveyard police, Potter? I belong here just as much as you do."  
  
"And why is that?" Harry challenged, folding his arms.  
  
"Because I loved her!" Draco snapped, before he had a chance to fathom what it was he was saying.  
  
Harry stared at him, looking just as shocked as Draco felt. Sickened, Draco turned away from him, staring blankly out into the night. He had sworn to himself that he would never say it, vowed that he would never reveal that weakness. And here he was, outing himself to the person he despised most in the world.  
  
"You--" Harry seemed unable to even say the words, much less comprehend them. " But...you two were never even were together...she hated you as much as we did..."  
  
Draco snorted in derision. "And you call yourself her best friend. Maybe you were too busy running around with Ginny Weasley to notice, but Hermione and I had something that you can never even dream of. We would meet in secret because she knew that you would never begin to understand what we had." He spread out his arms, half-triumphant, half-defeated. "And I loved her. I won't deny it anymore. I loved her like I've never loved anything in this world."  
  
Harry stared at him, looking vaguely sick. "And did she...did she love you, too?"  
  
Draco was suddenly very tempted to lie to Harry, to watch the look on his face as  
  
he recounted in exaggerated detail how very much Hermione had loved him. But even as he imagined it, he could see the look of hurt in her eyes so vividly, as though she was standing right behind Harry and watching the entire conversation take place.  
  
"No," Draco said softly. "She didn't." To be fair to himself, he added, "At least, not that she ever said."  
  
Slowly, Harry backed away until he had found a rock to sit down on. He did so and then reached up, rubbing at the skin underneath his glasses. Draco took the opportunity to really study him. Though Harry could have never been accused of spending too much time on his hair, he seemed to have slacked off even more as of late. To Draco's surprise, there was even light stubble of beard shadowing Harry's face; with his near baby-smooth complexion, Draco had always assumed that Harry didn't even need to shave. His clothes were rumpled and lightly stained, looking as though they hadn't been washed in some time.   
  
Unbidden, Hermione's words came back to Draco's mind. "I don't know what would become of me if something ever happened to him," she had said, " I'd be only half a person..."  
  
Perhaps it was just his fancy, but as Draco looked down upon Harry now, he saw that all of the life and swagger had gone out of him. It really was as though he was looking down upon half a person.  
  
"Why didn't Hermione ever tell me?" Harry wondered aloud, shaking his head.  
  
"Maybe because you weren't ever around to listen." Draco suggested. Feeling a sudden burst of conscience, he added, "Or maybe because it was too weird for even her to understand, much less you blokes."  
  
Harry was silent for a moment longer, then nodded. " I guess," he said finally, " I guess it doesn't matter. Not really." Sighing, he rose to his feet and started to leave, then seemed to think better of it. He stopped abruptly and turned back to Draco questioningly. "Do you, um, have a place to stay tonight?"  
  
Taken aback, Draco frowned. " What did you have in mind, Potter?"  
  
" Lupin's offered to let me stay with him for a bit," Harry informed him. " I'm sure he could find an extra bed..."  
  
Draco smirked. " No thanks, Potter. Not until they prove that freakiness isn't contagious."  
  
If there had been any sign that Harry was warming toward him, it was gone now. " Suit yourself," he said briskly, then turned and stalked away.  
  
***  
  
Ron Weasley was dreaming of Lavender Brown. They were running through a field of daisies, hand in hand, barefoot. Lavender was wearing one of those flowery summer dresses that he had often seen Muggles in, and her long hair was billowing in the wind. Light, fluffy music was playing somewhere in the background.  
  
Suddenly, Lavender frowned and began to look about. " Where is that music coming from, Ron?" she inquired.  
  
They turned. Seated behind them in the field was an orchestra, conducted by Harry, who turned to Ron encouragingly. " Come on, Ron," he urged, " I'm playing the Hero's Suite for you."  
  
Ron frowned as his gaze swept over the musicians assembled. Hermione was first violin, Ginny was second. Malfoy was standing at the edge of the group, scowling as he played the triangle. In the back, Fred and George were beating on the drums enthusiastically. All of the old Hogwarts teachers were playing trumpets, except for Snape, who was holding an instrument that Ron didn't recognize.  
  
" I play the bassoon," Snape said proudly, seeming to sense Ron's gaze.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. " Oh, honestly, Ron. Didn't you read your books on the organization of modern orchestras?"  
  
Ron frowned at this. " Huh?"  
  
Beside Hermione, Ginny folded her arms and pouted. " I wanted to be first violin," she whined.   
  
Ron felt an insistent tugging on his hand. Questioningly, he turned back, only to see that Lavender had transformed into Hagrid, still in the same sundress.   
  
With a start, Ron awoke, gasping for breath. Shakily, he reached up and wiped at the beads of sweat that had formulated on his brow. " Note to self," he muttered aloud, "warn Hagrid that pink really isn't his color..."  
  
He had just rolled over in an attempt to fall back asleep when he heard it. A slight whimpering sound, muffled and distant. Frowning, Ron rose to his feet and padded over to the window, peering out. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dark, but then he thought he saw an indistinguishable blur on the porch.  
  
Carefully moving so as not to wake his parents or siblings, Ron made his way down the stairs and toward the front door. He hesitated there, wondering if this might not be some sort of trap. True, Voldemort was dead and the majority of his followers had been caught, but still...  
  
He had just about resigned himself to ignore the noise and go back to bed when he heard the whimpering again, more loudly this time. It sounded like some sort of wounded animal—a dog, or a cat, maybe. Frowning, Ron took in a deep breath and then drew open the door.  
  
It took him a moment to realize that the shivering bundle at his feet was a human being. Puzzled, Ron leaned down and tentatively reached out to touch her. " Hey, are you-- "  
  
At the sound of his voice, the head snapped up, and he was greeted by a pair of frightened but familiar brown eyes. Ron felt as though he had stuck a vacuum inside of his mouth and all of the moisture had literally been sucked out.  
  
" Hermione?" he stammered finally, his voice filled with wonder. 


	6. Surprise

Death or Something Like It  
  
Author: Elizabethlissag7@juno.com  
  
Rating: Probably more around PG, but I'll PG-13 just to be safe. Some violence and allusions to more adulty things.  
  
Summary: The final battle has taken place, and Harry and co. mourn their losses, which include Hermione. But just as they begin to move on with their lives, there is an unexpected twist of fate.  
  
Ships: H/Hr, first and foremost, some D/Hr, H/G, and a little R/L  
  
Disclaimer: Sadly, none of these characters are mine. On a side-note, I started a similar fic with Buffy, Angel, and Spike a while back that I never finished. So if you happen to be one of the three people that read that and think that I'm stealing that idea, don't worry. It's mine.  
  
Hermione was sleeping quite soundly now on the spare bed in Ginny's room, and though Mrs. Weasley had repeatedly told all of them that they should leave her be and let her get some rest, none of the Weasley clan had left the room since her arrival. They were all huddled on or around Ginny's bed, watching their bushy-haired friend sleep.  
  
Fred cleared his throat suddenly, looking about. " Does this seem a little stalkerish to anyone else?"   
  
Ginny hushed him suddenly, and her brothers all turned to look at her strangely, thinking that she had been offended by Fred's comment. It wasn't until they heard the footsteps coming up the stairs that they, too, realized someone had arrived. Expectantly, they all turned toward the door, instinctively knowing who it was.   
  
Sure enough, the door creaked open and there was Harry. As was evident by his pumpkin patch pajamas and bare feet, he hadn't even taken the time to get dressed before coming.  
  
He looked first to the Weasleys, who were all watching him expectantly, before his gaze fell upon Hermione. For a moment, he merely stared, disbelieving, and then slowly, tentatively, he moved forward. Coming to a stop in front of the bed, he kneeled down beside her and watched for a moment in mesmerized silence at the sight of her stomach rising and falling with each breath. Then, gently, he reached out and brushed his hand across her forearm. As skin made contact, he let out a shuddering sigh as tears began to pool in his eyes and slide down his cheeks.   
  
This seemed to awaken the Weasleys. They moved forward, surrounding the bed, each taking their rightful place. Ron knelt down beside Harry, exchanging the first genuinely happy smile with his best friend in a good, long while; Ginny stood behind Harry, placing her hands on his shoulders; and Fred, George, and Bill stood at the foot of the bed, looking upon all of this fondly.  
  
" I can't believe it," Harry said, shaking his head in wonder. " I just can't believe it..." He turned to Ron questioningly. " Did she say anything to you? Did you find out anything from her?"  
  
Ron shook his head. " When I found her, she was crying outside the front door. I couldn't get her to say a word. Dad finally put a sleeping charm on her and brought her up here."  
  
George grinned. " It's like some sort of bloody miracle, that's what it is."  
  
" Is it?" Ginny returned, her voice filled with doubt. The others turned to stare at her. " Don't get me wrong—I'm glad that Hermione's back. Really, I am." As if to prove her point, she reached up to wipe a few tears that were trickling out of the corners of her eyes. " But what if it isn't a miracle? What if someone did this on purpose?"  
  
By the silence in the room, it was evident that she hadn't been the only one to think such a thing. Harry turned to her, his face suddenly ugly. Ginny recoiled her hands from his shoulders instinctively. " Don't you dare suggest such a thing again," he snapped, " not to her, not to anyone. I know why she was brought back—because her death was a mistake. The universe knew that, so it brought her back, that's all."  
  
Ignoring them, he turned back to study Hermione once more, his features softening visibly as he did so. The Weasleys looked about uneasily, not certain what to say.   
  
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley entered the room, conversing to each other in low whispers. They stopped once within hearing range of the small group gathered at Hermione's bed. " Has there been any change?" Mrs. Weasley inquired, coming forward to peer over Ginny's shoulder at the still-slumbering Hermione.   
  
" None so far," Bill informed his mother.  
  
Mrs. Weasley turned to her husband questioningly. " Do you think we should wake her?" she inquired.  
  
" Not yet," Mr. Weasley advised. " She'll come about in her own due time."  
  
" Well, wake me when she does," Fred requested, yawning as he turned and departed from the room. Sensing that they weren't particularly needed at the moment, George and Bill muttered their excuses before doing the same.  
  
Mrs. Weasley tugged on her husband's shirtsleeve. " Come on, Arthur," she suggested, " let's go wait for the others to arrive."  
  
Once they had gone, Harry sighed suddenly as a thought struck him. " Someone should tell Malfoy." he said reluctantly.  
  
Ron screwed up his face. " What?" he asked, in a tone that clearly suggested Harry had gone mad.  
  
Taking in a deep breath, Harry recounted his experience at the graveyard with Draco. When he had finished, Ginny and Ron were both looking at him in wonder. Ron's face twisted with fury. " That stupid git...in love with Hermione, is he? I'll kill him!"  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes. " Don't be ridiculous, Ron. Obviously, Hermione didn't mind his company so much or she wouldn't have been sneaking around with him."  
  
Ron scowled at his sister. Was it just his imagination, or was there the tiniest glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes as she spoke the words?  
  
Harry's shoulders seemed to tighten, ever so slightly. " Well, we'll have to wait and see what Hermione thinks about it, won't we? All I know is that Malfoy, slimy buggar that he is, deserves to know that she's alive."  
  
Ron sighed melodramatically. " Fine. But whenever that gallant-conscience thing wears off, Harry, I'll be all too glad to be around to see it."   
  
Harry smiled lightly to himself. For some inexplicable reason, his conscience had always sounded a bit like Hermione.  
  
Muttering to himself, Ron rose to his feet and headed for the door. He stopped before entering the hallway. " Come on, Ginny," he snapped, irritated that she hadn't realized this was a time to exit and leave Harry alone with Hermione for a bit. His sister was bright enough, but she certainly could be daft.  
  
Glaring at her brother, Ginny turned and stormed out into the hall.  
  
Once alone, Harry turned his entire focus to Hermione. He could hear the faint lull of her breathing, and nothing in his memory had ever sounded so blissfully perfect. This was all too wonderful to be true, he knew. Hermione was alive, after all this time. Hadn't he wished for this a thousand times? Hadn't he dreamed that it would happen? And now here she was, and he couldn't bring himself to believe it.  
  
Suddenly, the gentle rhythm of Hermione's breathing stopped. Harry's heart lurched in panic, and for a moment he nearly stopped breathing himself. Then slowly, leisurely, Hermione's eyes fluttered open. They stared off into nothingness for a moment, disconnected, then settled on his face.  
  
She rose abruptly, wobbling unsteadily like a deer taking its first few steps. "Oh, Harry," she gushed, " you're okay!" Her gaze traveled around the familiar room in the Burrow where she had stayed for so many summer and Christmas holidays. " Is the battle over, then? Is everyone all right?"  
  
Harry could only stare at her, astonished. She acted as though, as though....she had never died.  
  
Seeing the look on his face, Hermione's features instantly darkened. She reached out and took Harry's hand. " Oh, no." Tears of compassion clouded her eyes. "Everything isn't all right, is it? Someone...didn't make it." He looked away. " Please, Harry, you have to tell me. Who was it?"  
  
Harry gripped her hand and pressed it to his forehead in anguish. " It was you," he said hoarsely.  
  
He felt Hermione's hand go limp in his own. "Harry, what are you talking about?"  
  
" Two months," Harry continued, refusing to release her fingers from his grip, "it's been over two months since you died. And now you're here and you're alive and you're..."  
  
A sudden thought seemed to strike him. He reached forward gingerly and pushed back her thick hair, letting his fingers rest on her neck. All too vividly, he remembered the sharp snap when Voldemort broke her neck. But now, it was as though it had never happened; her neck was smooth and firm...and whole.   
  
Hermione was watching him with wide eyes. Slowly, she reached up and wrapped her fingers over Harry's hand, drawing it gently away. " Harry," she said softly, her gaze wandering down to his pajamas, " are you sure that you haven't been dreaming?"   
  
Harry met her gaze solemnly. " I'm not entirely convinced that I'm not dreaming right now," he informed her.  
  
Hermione's eyes were troubled, and for good reason. Either her best friend was going mad, or she had been dead. They were hardly two very optimistic alternatives.  
  
Sighing, Harry lowered his head and rested it on top of the mattress, still clutching onto her hand. " You don't know what it was like without you here," he mourned. " We were all zombies, Hermione, walking around like there was nothing left to live for. Especially me. I thought... I thought..."  
  
But he couldn't bear to finish the sentence. Soothingly, Hermione reached out with her free hand and began to stroke his hair. " There, there," she murmured. "It's all right. I'm here now..." 


	7. Of Weasleys and Wankers

Death or Something Like It  
  
Author: Elizabethlissag7@juno.com  
  
Rating: Probably more around PG, but I'll PG-13 just to be safe. Some violence and allusions to more adulty things.  
  
Summary: The final battle has taken place, and Harry and co. mourn their losses, which include Hermione. But just as they begin to move on with their lives, there is an unexpected twist of fate.  
  
Ships: H/Hr, first and foremost, some D/Hr, H/G, and a little R/L. Maybe some D/G, too. We'll see. :)  
  
Disclaimer: Sadly, none of these characters are mine. On a side-note, I started a similar fic with Buffy, Angel, and Spike a while back that I never finished. So if you happen to be one of the three people that read that and think that I'm stealing that idea, don't worry. It's mine.  
  
Draco apparently saw very little need for ceremony as he pushed open the front door to the Weasley's home without knocking and stormed inside. " Where is she?" he inquired, his tone suggesting little room for any dallying.  
  
" Upstairs," Bill stammered, having just come out of the kitchen. He was carrying a half-eaten cookie in one hand and a glass of milk in the other. As Draco raced past him, he looked after the younger man in wonder. " What is Malfoy doing here...?"   
  
If Draco heard him, he scarcely registered the words. His heart was pounding quite rapidly in his chest, inflating to twice its normal size, making it rather difficult to breathe. Still, he didn't stop until he had reached the open doorway to what he presumed must be Ginny's room and stepped inside. At first, all he could see was a flash of red hair; Ron and Ginny were crowded around the bed, talking animatedly. The next thing he saw was Harry, who seemed to have regained his annoying Potter-ness overnight and was now laughing and smiling like a normal person again.   
  
And then he saw her.  
  
Hermione, sitting up in her bed.  
  
Hermione, laughing at one of Ron's jokes.  
  
Hermione...alive.  
  
Draco merely stood there for a moment, fighting back the waves of emotion that had once caused him to be whipped as a child, content to just watch her for a minute or an hour or however long he could get away with it without being committed. But then, seeming to sense his presence, Hermione glanced up at him, and their gazes met. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room as Potter and the two Weasels recognized that he had arrived, and then Hermione was smiling at him. " Hello, Draco."  
  
It was like a flood of emotions was drowning him. He wanted to laugh and cry and run to her and kiss her and throw himself at her feet, but pride kept him from doing any of those things. Knowing that the others would be watching, would see his weakness...  
  
He swallowed and tilted his chin up ever so slightly. " Hello, Granger..." It was almost too much, and he took another moment to compose himself. " Could I...um, could we have a moment to ourselves, please?"  
  
Going into protective friend mode, Ron folded his arms and glared at him. " What have you got to say that the rest of us can't hear, Malfoy?"  
  
Draco rolled his eyes, remembering now why he was never polite. " Will you gits leave, or do I have to bloody the lot of you to make you get out?"  
  
Ron started toward him, seeming to welcome the challenge, but Hermione hastily intervened. " Ron, Ginny," her voice softened ever so slightly, " Harry...please. Just give us a moment."  
  
Begrudgingly, Ron turned and left, followed shortly by his sister and best friend. Draco watched after them smugly, noting with particular pleasure the look of discomfit in Harry's eyes as he left.  
  
As soon as they had shut the door behind them, Draco turned back to face Hermione. He felt suddenly inexplicably shy. " Hey."  
  
She smiled at him kindly. " Hey." For a moment, she glanced down, fingering nervously at the little tufts of yarn on her bedspread. Finally, she looked back up, smiling crookedly. " So, apparently, I was dead."  
  
" Apparently so," Draco returned, smiling in return. " You have a tombstone and everything."  
  
Hermione shivered. " How dreadful. I suppose it's something terribly morose and sappy?"  
  
Draco considered this. " Well, it didn't seem so at the time, but now that you're alive..." He took in a deep breath, venturing a little closer to her. " How do you feel?"  
  
Hermione shrugged. " Absolutely fine. I don't even remember...well, dying. One moment, I was fighting alongside Harry, and then the next thing I knew, I was here. And everyone's been telling me that I've been dead for more than two months."  
  
" Sixty-four days," Draco corrected automatically. He felt suddenly very foolish for stowing away such information.  
  
Hermione met his gaze with a mixture of wonder and sadness in her eyes. Impulsively, she reached out her hand to him. Draco obligingly took it and seated himself on the side of her bed. Lowering her gaze, she began to absently draw little half-circles on the skin of his hand with her index finger. " I'm sorry," she said finally.  
  
Draco felt a tiny sting in his eyes and was suddenly very glad that Hermione wasn't looking at him. " Don't be," he managed finally. " You're back. That's all that matters."  
  
***  
  
Out in the hallway, Ron and Harry were waiting tensely—Ron pacing up and down the small stretch of carpet, Harry checking his watch every few seconds. Ginny rolled her eyes and let out a melodramatic sigh. " Oh, honestly," she snapped, " you two act as though she's in there with the Devil or Hitler or something."  
  
" Close enough," Ron muttered, shooting another scathing glance in the direction of Ginny's bedroom door.  
  
Harry said nothing, as he had just visualized a rather disturbing image of Malfoy with two pointy horns and a little patch of mustache.  
  
Finally, after what seemed like hours, Draco stepped out into the hall. Shutting the door behind him, he turned to face the others coolly. " She's asleep now," he informed them.  
  
" Well," Ron said brightly, " no need for you to stick around, then. Thanks for dropping by."  
  
" Not until I get some answers," Draco returned evenly. " Which one of you wankers cast the spell to bring her back to life?" He spoke generally, but turned his gaze pointedly to Harry.  
  
Harry's eyes darkened visibly. " For the last time," he half-growled through gritted teeth, " There was no spell. Hermione was brought back because she wasn't supposed to die that day-- "  
  
" Oh, come off it, Potter!" Draco spat. " Hermione knew what she was doing when she died for you. It was supposed to be her big glorious sacrifice for you, only someone's changed that now. There are prices to be paid for that sort of thing, and she might be the one who has to suffer for it. So which one of you cast the bloody spell?"  
  
The hallway was suddenly submerged into silence as Draco and Harry glared at each other. Ginny cleared her throat tentatively. " I'm a little confused," she admitted. " I thought that there weren't any spells that could raise the dead."  
  
" Oh, there are spells, Miss Weasley. But like Mr. Malfoy suggested, the consequences of those spells are so high that the knowledge of them is kept mostly hidden to discourage anyone from being tempted."  
  
They turned, recognizing immediately the kind, mellifluous voice. Dumbledore. He smiled his composed smile as he approached, meeting each of their gazes respectively. " Only unlike Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore continued evenly, " I find it hard to believe that any of you were involved in the raising spell."  
  
Ginny furrowed her brow. " Then...who?"  
  
Dumbledore smiled at her indulgently. " Before I make any speculations, I wonder if I might speak with Hermione for a moment?"  
  
They led him into the room. Hermione was awake, sitting up in bed and staring down at her hands. Draco raised an eyebrow. " You told me you were going to sleep," he reminded her.  
  
" I lied." Hermione returned simply. She looked up, resting her gaze upon Dumbledore. " I heard everything. Do you really think that someone cast a spell to bring me back?"  
  
" I think it was a distinct possibility," Dumbledore informed her honestly, " but not the only one. All the same, for whatever reason, you're back with us now, and it is my first concern to make certain that you're all right. How do you feel? Do you remember anything from that day?"  
  
Hermione shrugged. " I feel fine. But I don't remember anything about dying." Her friends winced at the words, but she continued, " The last thing I remember is Voldemort using that spell to take Harry by the throat, and then I was here."  
  
Dumbledore nodded, as though all of this was familiar. " I suspect that your memory will come back in time," he revealed, " and that you'll be able to notice any side effects of your resurrection that might surface."  
  
Harry frowned at this, concern evident in his eyes. " What sort of side effects?" he inquired.  
  
" It's hard to say," Dumbledore returned honestly, " but you'll know when you experience them. Let me know if anything...unusual should arise."  
  
There was a short pause as everyone fell into contemplative silence, wondering what sort of side effects Dumbledore meant. Sensing that things had perhaps become a bit too serious, Dumbledore smiled once again. " And my second concern as your former headmaster is to offer Hogwarts as the center for your homecoming party. I assume that there will be many people who are anxious to speak to you..." 


	8. That Loving Feeling

Hermione could not help but feel a bit overwhelmed as she scanned her gaze over the crowded room. These people were all here to see her, to welcome her back from the dead. There was really no preparation for this sort of thing.  
  
  
  
Flanking her left side, Ron turned to her and grinned. " Bet you never realized you were so popular," he pointed out.  
  
" I never WAS so popular," Hermione reminded him. " I think these people only showed up to see if this was all an elaborate hoax."  
  
Draco turned to her from her right side. " Don't sell yourself short, Granger," he advised, " more often than not, you were the topic of discussion in the Slytherin Quidditch team locker room. Especially seventh year when you started to outgrow your robes and they began to...ur...stretch in certain places..."  
  
Ron whipped around to face him, eyes murderous. " Why you little, slimy snake--"  
  
Hermione placed a restraining hand on his arm. " Relax, Ron. He's only joking." She glanced at Draco. " I hope..."  
  
At that moment, everyone in the room seemed to collectively notice their presence, and so—decidedly uncomfortable with the attention—Hermione started down the stairs with Ron and Draco. There had been quite a big fuss about who would be her official date for the evening; Harry was with Ginny, of course, so he was out of the running. Yet though Ron had not shown any romantic inkling toward Hermione for the past few years, he positively loathed the idea of Draco taking Hermione, which of course made Draco want to do it all the more. And since Draco and Ron had never much been renowned for their skills in compromising, Hermione was attending the party with two escorts.  
  
And handsome escorts they were. Ron, who was finally beginning to outgrow his gangly awkwardness, was quite handsome in his dress robes of deep blue. Not one to be outdone, Draco had managed to find a pair of silver-tinted robes that accented the silky smoothness of his own silvery hair. Of course, Hermione thought a tad bit wistfully, neither one could really replace—  
  
" Harry!" she said brightly upon spotting him from behind. He turned to face her, and she managed barely to refrain from emitting a little gasp at the sight of him. Her dear friend Harry, who had never come close to making Wizard Magazine's Best Dressed List, was wearing robes of deep green that perfectly matched his trademark eyes, making them look absolutely brilliant. The robes hung about his tall athletic frame, hinting at the strength that dwelt beneath.  
  
Draco was watching her out of the corner of his eye, Hermione knew, so she smiled and pretended not to feel the usual pang that began in her heart and spread downward toward the lower portion of her pancreas at the sight of Harry. " You look quite nice tonight, Harry," she complimented in a neutral voice.  
  
Harry flushed ever so slightly, or maybe that was just wishful thinking. " Thanks, Hermione. You look nice, too."  
  
Hermione felt her own blush rising as she glanced down at the meticulously chosen robes. They were a deep red, gently form-fitting, and she could remember distinctly that when she bought them, she had been thinking of a certain green-eyed, Quidditch playing, lightning branded friend of hers.  
  
" Thanks," Hermione began. " I didn't know quite what to..."  
  
Her voice drifted off as Ginny approached, absolutely stunning in her lavender gowns. Hermione felt the color drain from her face. How could she have been so ridiculous as to think that she actually looked nice when there were people like Ginny Weasley? She suddenly felt utterly ridiculous.  
  
Gently, Draco took Hermione's hand and gave it a gentle, supportive squeeze. Despite the fact that it was meant to comfort her, Hermione felt her eyes sting at the gesture.   
  
Oblivious to the entire exchange, Ron glanced about the crowd. " Well, how's this thing going to run, then? Is there going to be an announcement or something?"  
  
As if on cue, Dumbledore stepped to the front of the room and cleared his throat. It was a rather quiet noise, but still he managed to garner everyone's attention. All eyes turned toward him expectantly.  
  
" Hello, and welcome," he murmured, " Tonight we celebrate the return of one of Hogwarts' favorite students."   
  
Hermione blushed as the attention turned toward her. She glanced instinctively toward Harry and was surprised to see that he was one of the few people not boring his eyes into her face; rather, his gaze was fixed rather steadfastly on her hand, intertwined with Draco's. Quickly, she released Draco's hand and turned her gaze toward Dumbledore, pretending not to notice that both boys were now studying her.  
  
" This is truly a happy day," Dumbledore was saying, " and so we will not ruin it with too many words. However, I hope everyone will join me in welcoming Miss Granger back from a most unpleasant sabbatical."  
  
There were some cheers at this, and Fred and George let out two wild whistles. Dumbledore stepped down from the head of the room, and the crowd began to throb with life again. People were surging toward Hermione now, each person seeming to be keen on shaking her hand and giving some encouraging remark.  
  
" It is a pleasure to have you back, Miss Granger," Professor McGonogal said, her voice unusually thick. She refused to meet Hermione's gaze and quickly hurried away, muttering something about her allergies.  
  
" We missed you, Hermione," Neville said solemnly, his lower lip quivering ever so slightly.  
  
He was followed by Lavender, who kept glancing at Ron the entire time she spoke, then Justin, then Luna, then Seamus and Dean and virtually every person Hermione had ever met in her entire lifetime. By the time she was through, she felt as though her heart was about to explode from the current of emotions she was feeling.  
  
Sometime during her conversation with the forty-second or forty-third person, the band had begun to play music. Several people were out on the dance floor, including Lavender and Ron, who seemed to have lost his undying determination to be her co-escort.  
  
Draco, who had been skulking rather moodily about the sidelines while Hermione was otherwise preoccupied, moved toward her and smiled. " Long day?" he inquired.  
  
Hermione wiped at her eyes with the back of one hand. " You could say that," she murmured weakly.  
  
Silently, he held out his hand to her. She smiled and took the proffered palm, then stepped out with Draco onto the dance floor. 'Isn't It Romantic', an old muggle song, was playing in the background. Contentedly, Hermione leaned her head against Draco's shoulder.  
  
" This is all so incredible," Hermione sighed. " I never realized that I was so... loved."  
  
Draco was silent. At first, Hermione thought he hadn't heard her, and then he murmured, " You don't know what it was like without you, Hermione. It was..." He shook his head. " I'd rather not talk about it."  
  
Hermione smiled, trying to lighten the tension a bit. " That good, huh?"  
  
Draco grinned in return, though it seemed forced. " Well, you know. It was no paradise, but there was an alarming number of palm fronds and harps circulating about..."  
  
Their gazes met, and suddenly Hermione found that it was very hard to smile at all. She had kissed Draco before, and she knew the look he got in his eyes right beforehand. But surely, he wouldn't be crazy enough to kiss her in front of all these people, and surely she wouldn't be crazy enough to let him...  
  
There was a blur of movement as someone tapped Draco on the shoulder, and Hermione looked up to see Harry standing there. " Mind if I cut in?"  
  
" Sure, Potter," Draco returned good-naturedly, " but I get to lead."  
  
Harry merely stared at him for a moment, unblinking. Scowling once more, Draco obligingly stepped out of the way and moved off toward his spot on the wall, muttering something about blasted customs and etiquette.  
  
If Hermione had felt nervous about kissing Draco on the dance floor, it was nothing compared to the anxiety she felt now at stepping into Harry's arms. They smiled self-consciously at one another and then moved into position. Hermione felt a disturbingly delicious sensation run through her body at his touch, but she managed somehow to keep from throwing herself at him or running from him or acting out any of the other horrible scenarios in her mind.  
  
" Is this all right?" Harry inquired after a moment. " The party, I mean. I know you've never liked big crowds..."  
  
" It is rather strange," Hermione admitted with a sigh. " Not because I mind the people, but because...they're welcoming me back from the dead."  
  
Harry nodded, obviously trying his best to understand her position. She could almost see the wheels turning in his mind. " But there haven't been any side effects, have there? No strange after-effects like Dumbledore said there might be?"  
  
" Well, my hair does seem a bit frizzier than usual," Hermione joked lightly, " but otherwise, no."  
  
Smiling, Harry reached out and took a strand of her hair between his index finger and thumb, twirling it a bit. " Looks all right to me," he complimented.  
  
Hermione felt a delightful chill run down up spine. She opened her mouth, which had suddenly become quite dry, and tried to think of something witty or profound to say. Harry seemed similarly stumped.  
  
It took them both a moment to realize that the song was over, and then with an equal mixture of regret and relief, Hermione stepped away from him. " Thanks for humoring me, Harry," she said quickly, " I wouldn't--"  
  
She was interrupted, once again, by Ginny Weasley. " Sorry to cut in, Hermione," she interjected, " but I'd like to steal my boyfriend for a dance or two..."  
  
Hermione watched mutely as they left, a silent sob rising in her chest. Could he really be so utterly daft? Could she really be so stupid as to think that Harry would ever look at her that way?  
  
There had been times when she had felt melancholy before, of course, but she suddenly felt overwhelmingly heartbroken, and for no particular provocation. Nothing had changed since she left; Ginny and Harry were still Ginny and Harry, and she'd coped with that before. And yet...  
  
Suddenly, it was all she could manage not to scream in the middle of the dance floor, rent her clothes even with the anguish that had overcome her. Stumbling blindly, she made her way out of the grand hall, searching for an empty room to hide in until this wave of emotion passed.  
  
She found it, a dark abandoned classroom just outside the main hall. Nearly faint with sorrow, Hermione sunk down onto the ground and curled into a little protective ball. " This will pass," she murmured, rocking back and forth, " This will pass, this will pass, this will pass..."  
  
A moment later, a sliver of light entered the room as the door was slowly pushed open. " Hermione?" came a tentative voice.  
  
Hermione winced as the light fell upon her face, and suddenly Harry was by her side, his features a mask of worry. " Hermione, are you all right? Have you been hurt?"  
  
She began to laugh suddenly, with no provocation whatsoever. She laughed harder than she had ever laughed in her entire life, until her mouth and her throat and her stomach ached from the effort. " Of course I'm not all right," she managed, " I should be dead, shouldn't I?"  
  
Seeing the troubled look on Harry's face, she immediately sobered. " Harry, something isn't right. Everything is all out of balance. I feel like my emotions are surging out of control."  
  
" Do you want me to get someone?" Harry inquired, placing a concerned hand on her arm. " I think I saw Madame Pomfrey here, or maybe I should go straight to Dumbledore..."  
  
But Hermione had ceased listening to him. Her gaze was focused now on his hand on her arm. It felt as though electrical surges were running through her body, emanating from his touch. She'd been affected by Harry before, attracted to him certainly, but this was ten times stronger than anything she'd ever experienced. She felt a cold sweat break out on the back of her neck.  
  
Harry seemed completely unaware of the effect he was having on her. " Do you think you can walk? Or maybe it would be best to leave you here, so we won't worry everyone..."  
  
*What IS he babbling about?* Hermione wondered to herself, watching him with a feverish intensity. Her eyes wandered hungrily over his hands, his shoulders, his lips. She felt a scream welling up inside of her again, but this time it was an altogether different sensation, and one decidedly more pleasant...  
  
Suddenly, it was too much to bear, and she lunged for him, pressing her lips against his own, running her hands across his broad, firm back. Harry stiffened, stunned, but didn't seem to mind all that much as the kiss intensified and Hermione was nearly on top of him...  
  
" Harry?" came a voice from the door. " Is everything--"  
  
Harry wrenched himself away from Hermione, but it was too late. Ginny was already standing in the doorway, with Draco and Ron a few steps behind her. 


	9. Aftermath

chapter nine  
  
Harry and Hermione pulled apart, but it was too late; a series of events had already been set in motion. Rather predictably, there was a huge scene as Ginny ran from the room crying and locked herself away in one of the empty dormitories. Awkwardness ensued between everyone remaining. Harry ran after Ginny, Draco and Ron stared at the ceiling and floor, and Hermione was left miserable.  
  
It would have been almost funny in its unoriginality if Hermione hadn't been feeling so utterly wretched.  
  
" I'm so sorry," Hermione said to anyone who would listen as she, Draco, and Ron rejoined Harry to do damage control. " I don't know what came over me. It was like I couldn't help myself, like something else had taken over my body..."  
  
Draco looked at her knowingly but refrained from saying anything.  
  
" Ginny!" Harry cried, pounding on the door of the locked dormitory. " Ginny, please come out."  
  
The reply was a resounding thud as Ginny threw something at the wall.  
  
" She seems a bit peeved," Draco pointed out.  
  
" Shut up Draco," Harry, Ron, and Hermione said in unison.  
  
It took nearly a half an hour, but finally—through their combined efforts—Ron, Hermione, and Harry were able to coerce Ginny out of the room. She glared at them all petulantly, her face red and her eyes glowing with murderous rage.  
  
" Go ahead and try to explain to me," Ginny dared them, " but if any of you even think the words 'it just happened', I'll turn your innards to pudding."  
  
Draco looked up, smiling at this. " Nice visual picture," he complimented. Once again, he was ignored.   
  
Harry stepped toward Ginny, reaching for her hands. She snatched them away. "Ginny, please. Something strange came over Hermione--"  
  
" Hormones?" Ginny snapped crossly.  
  
Hermione swallowed heavily. " Ginny, honestly, I don't know how it happened. It was like someone had cast a spell on me or something. I couldn't control what I was doing."  
  
" Dumbledore did say there might be side effects from her death," Ron pointed out. " Maybe this was one of them."  
  
There was silence as everyone contemplated this, wondering what it meant. Ginny seemed to be softening somewhat. " Well...do you swear it was something supernatural?" she demanded finally.  
  
Hermione nodded quickly. " Honestly, Ginny, I'd never hurt you like that." *No matter how much I might like to*, she added silently, remembering the taste of Harry's lips.  
  
A sudden thought seemed to strike Ginny, and she rounded on Harry. " That explains Hermione, but what about YOU? You didn't seem to mind it all that much."  
  
Harry flushed. " Well, the thing is..." He was struggling for words, but finding none. " I'm a teenage boy!" he protested finally.  
  
Wrong answer.  
  
Ginny let out a shriek and locked herself back in the room again. Sighing, Harry began to coax her once more. " Ginny, please, that came out all wrong..."  
  
Hermione exchanged a glance with Ron and Draco. " Perhaps we should give them a moment," she suggested.  
  
Silently, the three filed out of the room. As they walked down the hall, Draco glanced over at Hermione. " You should tell Dumbledore," he said softly.  
  
Hermione sighed. " Yes, I know. I'm just afraid of what it might mean."  
  
" Maybe it doesn't mean anything," Ron asserted, " although, it's better to be safe than sorry, don't you think?"  
  
They found Dumbledore in the main hall. He was speaking to Professor McGonogal, seeming to be having quite a serious conversation as Draco, Hermione, and Ron approached them.  
  
" Ur, Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione interjected. " Can I have a word?"  
  
Dumbledore led them to his office. It was the first time that Hermione and Ron had been there without Harry, and the first time Draco had been there at all. It was evident by the wonder on his face that he hadn't heard too many tales of the office. He marveled visibly at the portraits on the wall, and at the sight of Fawkes, his eyes nearly bugged out of his head.  
  
" With what can I help you, Ms. Granger?" Dumbledore inquired as soon as they were seated.  
  
With a sigh, Hermione proceeded to relate to him the entire incident, tactfully leaving out the part where she'd attacked Harry and snogged him wildly. When she was done, Dumbledore stroked at his beard and seemed to be brooding. " Interesting," he said finally, " very interesting."  
  
" Is it bad, Professor?" Ron inquired. " Is she going mad or something?"  
  
Hermione frowned at him. " Thank you very much for the support, Ron."  
  
Dumbledore merely smiled at this. " No, Ms. Granger isn't losing her mind, although I cannot help but feel that this fluctuation of emotions was caused by her recent death. Still, as far as side-effects go, this was fairly mild." He smiled at her encouragingly. " This may be the only thing that you experience, but if anything else should come up, please feel free to contact me, anytime day or night."  
  
" Thank you, Professor," Hermione returned, somewhat guiltily, " but I'd hate to bother you with the new school year approaching and all. I know how busy things can get around here."  
  
Dumbledore cleared his throat. " You don't need to worry about such things, Ms. Granger."  
  
Hermione exchanged a glance with Ron. " Honestly, Professor, I'm not being noble. I just don't want to be a bother--"  
  
" No," Dumbledore said shaking his head, " you don't need to worry about such things because starting this new term, I will no longer be headmaster of Hogwarts."  
  
There was a deafening silence in the room. Even Draco seemed to have snapped out of his phoenix-reverie to stare at Dumbledore.  
  
" But—why?" Ron stammered finally.  
  
Dumbledore sighed. " I'm getting too old for this sort of thing," he informed them with a smile, " and frankly, I need a rest. Don't worry—Professor McGonogal will be taking over as headmistress, and I have no doubt that she will perform her duties remarkably well..."  
  
Ron, Hermione, and Draco departed from the office a moment later, all looking clearly stunned. " I can't believe it," Hermione said finally, " no more Dumbledore at Hogwarts. It doesn't seem possible."  
  
" Yeah," Ron said, " and Professor McGonogal is taking over..."  
  
Hermione whirled on him, eyes flashing. She happened to have a particular attachment to their old transfiguration teacher. " Professor McGonogal happens to be a very accomplished woman--"  
  
" Easy, Granger," Draco instructed her off-handedly. He seemed to be puzzling something together in his mind. " I don't think Weasel meant any disrespect... but something doesn't seem right about the entire thing, does it?"  
  
They rounded the corner to see a very worn-out Harry making his way toward them. He smiled blearily. " Hey."  
  
Hermione swallowed guiltily. " Hi, Harry," she said tentatively, " did you work things out with Ginny?"   
  
He rubbed at the bridge of his nose. " Yes, finally. I had to promise her loads of quality time together shopping and all sorts of other horrible things, but we're on speaking terms again."  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. " Well frankly, I'm relieved about the entire thing." he said with mock severity.  
  
Harry spared him a scathing glance, then looked tentatively to Ron and then finally Hermione. " Ur, Hermione, can I have a word with you—alone?"  
  
Hermione took in a steadying breath as Ron and Draco obediently departed. "Harry," she said quickly, " I'm really sorry about what happened before. I would never..."  
  
He blinked at this. " Right, well...me neither."  
  
They stood in awkward silence. Hermione absent-mindedly scratched a spot on her arm before remembering, " We spoke to Dumbledore. About the side-effects, and all."  
  
" Oh?" Harry said, rubbing at the back of his neck. " What did he say?"  
  
She smiled half-heartedly. " The usual cryptic Dumbledore message—it might be something, it might not. You know the drill." She bit her lip. " He also told us that he won't be headmaster at Hogwarts anymore."  
  
Harry stared at her, stunned. " Wow." he said finally. " That's...wow."  
  
" I know," Hermione sighed, sweeping her gaze along the corridor. " I can't imagine this place without him."  
  
" Good thing we graduated last year, eh?" Harry agreed with a smile.  
  
There was another awkward silence. Hermione cleared her throat. " Well, was there something you wanted to speak to me about?" she prompted finally.  
  
Harry took in a deep breath, then seemed to think better of it. " Um, nothing all that important. Just...you know. I'm glad you're back."  
  
They smiled uncertainly at one another and then headed back toward the grand hall, careful to keep a safe distance between them. 


	10. Bleeding Hearts

chapter ten  
  
Harry wandered downstairs into the Weasleys' kitchen, still a bit tired. Since graduation, he'd been staying with Lupin, but recently—with Hermione's return, and all—he'd become such a frequent guest at the Weasleys' home that he'd just started bunking there.   
  
To his surprise, there was no warm smell of cooking food or friendly chatter wafting from the kitchen. He recognized the hushed voices of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and as soon as he stepped into the room, they looked up at him apprehensively.  
  
" Oh, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, forcing a smile, " it's you. I've sent the rest of the kids off to the park. Perhaps you should join them..."  
  
Her voice drifted off as her gaze focused on something behind him. Harry turned, seeing Hermione enter the room. She looked uncomfortable as all of the attention was suddenly focused on her and self-consciously tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. " Is everything all right?"  
  
In an instant, Mrs. Weasley had forgotten entirely about Harry. " Oh, Hermione," she said, moving toward her. She glanced back at Mr. Weasley for support. " There's something we have to tell you..."  
  
Harry knew he should leave. He knew he should go to the park and let them have their private moment. But he seemed unable to do so, and sat there, listening.   
  
Hermione managed to stay respectably calm, calmer—Harry reflected—than he ever could with Mrs. Weasley fluttering about in such a nervous fashion. He glanced over at Mr. Weasley and saw that he, too, looked decidedly uncomfortable.  
  
Mrs. Weasley exchanged several uncomfortable glances with her husband and then finally began. " Hermione, dear, I'm afraid we have some bad news. We've received word from your parents--"  
  
Harry felt suddenly foolish. With all the excitement of getting Hermione back, he'd forgotten completely about contacting the Grangers. By the look on Hermione's face, he could tell that she hadn't forgotten, though, and he mused that she'd probably been trying to reach them ever since her return.  
  
" What is it?" Hermione inquired anxiously. " They're all right, aren't they? No one's been hurt?"  
  
" They're fine." Mr. Weasley spoke up, and looked away.  
  
Hermione frowned at him, then at Mrs. Weasley. " Then...what's going on? Is there bad news?"  
  
" We wrote to your parents and told them that you were alive, and that you'd like to see them." Mrs. Weasley said, and her voice had suddenly become very quiet. " But in the letter we received from them last night...Oh, Hermione, I'm so sorry."  
  
" Will someone please just tell me what's going on?"  
  
Mrs. Weasley sighed. " Hermione, I'm afraid that your parents don't wish to see you."  
  
A stillness fell over the room. Harry felt as though he'd been punched in the stomach. Hermione's parents? Hermione's sweet, good-natured parents? He looked to her anxiously, wondering what was going through her mind.  
  
Hermione looked puzzled. " What? I don't understand...why would they say that?"  
  
There were tears running down Mrs. Weasley's cheeks now. " I don't know, sweetheart. But I want you to know, you'll always have a home here."  
  
Hermione seemed to not have heard her. " Are you sure that's what they meant? Have you tried again?"  
  
" We tried several times." Mr. Weasley acknowledged. " We hoped that there had been some misunderstanding...that's why it took so long. But your parents remain firm."  
  
Hermione stared at them. She looked at Mr. Weasley, then Mrs. Weasley. Her eyes fell suddenly upon Harry, noticing him for the first time. Then abruptly, she ran out the back door.  
  
Mrs. Weasley started after her, but Mr. Weasley took her by the arm. " Molly—it might be best if Harry went to see her."  
  
Mrs. Weasley looked at Harry in surprise, having forgotten he was there. " Oh, yes," she said, wiping at her eyes with the back of one hand, " would you mind, Harry?"  
  
He was already out the door.  
  
Harry wandered until he found her. Hermione was sitting under a tree in the backyard, her face ashen. He approached her tentatively. " Hermione, are you all right?"  
  
Hermione glanced up at Harry, then promptly leaned over and wretched. Wordlessly, Harry took her hair and held it back. When she was through, she wiped at her mouth with a trembling hand and then covered her face. Great heaving sobs wracked her body.  
  
She looked so small then to Harry, so very, very small. He enveloped her in his arms, resting his chin atop her head. There were no words exchanged between them; there was really nothing that could be said to mend this sort of thing.  
  
Some time passed; Harry wasn't certain of the amount—a few minutes, a few hours maybe. Hermione finally looked up at him with blotchy red eyes. There was a wetness around her nose, a mixture of tears and snot. Harry was overcome suddenly with a fierce protectiveness toward her; he wanted to rip her parents apart with his bare hands.  
  
" I don't understand," Hermione said finally, her voice shaky. " My parents love me...they've never given any sort of indication that..." She couldn't bring herself to say the words.  
  
Harry forced back his anger toward the Grangers. " Death can do funny things to people, Hermione," he said, sighing. " Maybe they don't trust that you're really back. Maybe they're afraid of getting hurt again."  
  
Hermione was silent, seeming to ponder over this. She took a sudden, shaky breath, casting her gaze down to the ground. " How am I supposed to survive without my parents?"  
  
Swallowing, Harry reached out and intertwined his fingers with her own, wishing that he could give her the strength that she needed now, even if it would sap him dry. "It's hard," he admitted softly, " but you'll get by." He reached out and brushed a tear from her cheek. " And you'll always have me, Hermione. I swear it. You're the most important thing in my life."  
  
Hermione finally met his gaze. There was an anguish there, it seemed, that was separate from the loss of her parents. " That's sweet of you, Harry," she said, giving a pained smile, " but it's not really true, is it?" Silently, she reached up and traced her fingers over a carving in the bark.  
  
HP + GW.  
  
With that, she rose to her feet and pulled away from him, wandering deeper into the backyard. Thoroughly confused now, Harry watched her go, but didn't follow.  
  
***  
  
I thrive on reviews--don't make me starve!  
  
A/N: To the two or so people reading this fic, thanks. :) 


	11. PAR

chapter eleven: P.A.R.  
  
Hermione was pretending to read, but it wasn't really going all that well. For the first time in her life, she could muster little enthusiasm for a book, even if it was the one that Harry had given to her so thoughtfully on her last birthday. A Symbiotic Arrangement: House Elves and the Wizards Who Need Them, the cover read. Hermione was trying desperately to get into her old S.P.E.W. fervor, but her mind kept wandering to the dark places.  
  
Your parents don't want you, the dark voice whispered.  
  
They were happy you died.  
  
No one wants you.  
  
Hermione shook her head, forcing her mind to happier thoughts. Harry and Ron and Ginny were being rather lovely about the whole thing. Ginny kept offering to do her hair, and Harry kept trying to bring her things to eat, and even Ron kept giving her sympathetic looks and offering to carry things for her. But truth be told, they were being a little too lovely. She felt like a piece of fine china, suffocating in a submersion of bubble wrap. Not really the most pleasant of sensations.  
  
" Want to start a club?"  
  
Startled, Hermione looked up to see Draco standing over her, a magnificent figure etched against the sun. Hermione found that she was overwhelmingly happy to see him. Here was someone who would help to peel away the bubble wrap. Here was someone who would risk breaking her.  
  
" I've been thinking about it," Draco continued, " We can call ourselves P.A.R.: Parents Are Revolting. I'll be president, of course, and you can be treasurer."  
  
Hermione was suddenly embarrassed to look at him. " So you've heard then."  
  
Draco's face softened visibly. " Yeah, Harry owled me."  
  
Harry had willingly corresponded with Draco? Hermione felt a sudden surge of affection, though she couldn't quite decipher if it was for Harry or Draco. As disconcerting as it was, that sort of thing was happening a lot lately.  
  
" I'm here for you, Hermione," Draco said, meeting her gaze solemnly. " I know what you're going through."  
  
And that was the difference, Hermione realized. Draco wasn't looking at her with sympathy like the others; he was looking at her with *understanding*. He knew what it felt like to have his parents abandon him. When she thought of how awful it must have been for him to turn against his father...  
  
Abruptly, Hermione threw herself at Draco, hugging him tightly. " I don't understand," she said, and realized with a start that she was crying, " they used to love me, Draco, I know they did."  
  
" I know." Draco's voice was soothing; he rubbed her back. " They did love you, Hermione. I'm sure of it."  
  
Hermione frowned, pulling back to study his face. " But...how can you know? Did you ever even meet them?"  
  
Draco looked suddenly embarrassed. " When you were gone," he said, then cleared his throat and reiterated, " When you were gone, I went to visit with your parents. Your mum especially. We'd sit and have tea and talk about you." His gaze become far-off, almost as though he had forgotten she was there. " She looks like you. Same eyes, same gestures. You laugh like your father. They're both clever, and they both use self-deprecating humor when they're embarrassed, just like you."  
  
Hermione stared at him, incredulous, and was overwhelmed once again at her own death. He had missed her. Not just in the sense that he'd thought about her from day to day. He'd missed her so much that he'd gone to visit with her parents, even though she knew that Lucius's hatred for Muggles must still be ingrained in his mind. He'd MOURNED for her.  
  
" Oh, Draco," Hermione murmured, and she impulsively leaned forward to kiss him.  
  
He was cool to the touch, surprisingly soft...just as she remembered. Their kissing intensified, and Hermione began to lose herself to it. She was alive again. She'd been breathing all this time, but now she was really alive.  
  
And then suddenly, unwanted, unbidden, an image came to mind. A scar. A smile. A pair of green eyes.  
  
Hermione pulled back, breathing heavily. She lowered her gaze, afraid to look at him; Draco had always possessed the uncanny ability to sense what she was thinking.  
  
"Who knew going for tea would get such a reward?" Draco joked lightly. Even with her gaze downcast, she could feel his eyes upon her, studying her. " I suppose this isn't the right time to mention that I've been watching your cat, too."  
  
" He's well, I hope," Hermione said weakly.  
  
Draco was silent for a moment. " I won't ever be able to compete with him, will I?" Silence. " That's your decision, I guess. But let me ask you this—where is Harry now? Where is he when you most need him? Off with Ginny somewhere, no doubt."  
  
Hermione felt as though she'd been slapped in the face. Yes. Ginny. Harry was with Ginny. No matter how many times she acknowledged that information, it still stung.  
  
Draco turned to leave, but Hermione caught his arm. " Wait," she begged, her voice faltering. " Please, don't leave me."  
  
Draco was silent, and then his face softened once more. He sat back down again, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "So, what should the mascot of P.A.R. be?"  
  
Hermione smiled back at him. " I've always been fond of beavers..."  
  
***  
  
Harry watched from the living room of the Burrow. Hermione and Draco were talking now, and he'd actually seen her smile a few times. He wasn't really sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, it was nice to see Hermione looking happy. But on the other...  
  
Why should it be Draco?  
  
Why couldn't it be him?  
  
Harry pushed the thought from his mind, but not quickly enough. It seemed that there was a whole new barrage of questions assaulting him. He'd known it was the right thing to ask Draco to come see Hermione; he'd known that it would cheer her up. And it worked. So why did it bother him so much to watch them together? Why did he feel sickened at the sight of them kissing?  
  
*It's because Malfoy's a git*, Harry reasoned with himself. *Hermione deserves better. Draco's all wrong for her. She needs someone else...someone like...*  
  
Like you?   
  
Harry jumped at the thought. Blasted questions. The sight of Draco and Hermione kissing had jarred him more than he had realized. He and Hermione were just friends. He loved her, but not like that.  
  
You didn't mind kissing her that night at Hogwarts.  
  
*That's just ridiculous,* Harry argued with himself. *I'm a teenage boy, and Hermione's an attractive girl...of course I didn't MIND...*  
  
Platonic friends don't have such lurid fantasies.  
  
*Stop it.*  
  
Like the one last night when you were on the beach ala "From Here to Eternity" and the waves were crashing on the shore and—  
  
"STOP!" Harry cried, not realizing that he had spoken aloud until he glanced up at the portrait on the wall and saw it staring at him suspiciously.  
  
" Losing your marbles, dear?" the portrait inquired. " I had an insane uncle once. Took to wearing diapers on his head and ladies' bloomers underneath his trousers..."  
  
Harry ignored her, turning his gaze back to the window. Finally, it seemed, Draco was leaving and Hermione was alone again. Harry went to the back door, intending to have a word with his completely-platonic-not-remotely-romantic best friend. However, before he could step outside, he ended up face to face with Malfoy.  
  
The two boys could barely maintain their mutual dislike.  
  
" Potter." Malfoy sneered.  
  
" Malfoy," Harry snapped in return.  
  
They regarded each other for a moment. Had they been impartial observers, they might have found humor in the fact that both were standing up as straight as they could and puffing out their chests in an extremely immature fashion; as it was, they were both so preoccupied with out-testosteroning the other that they didn't take notice.  
  
" Leaving then?" Harry said, his voice forcefully cheerful. " Don't let me keep you. See you in a few decades."  
  
Draco smirked at him. " I don't know if you remember, Potter, but you're the one who invited me here. And judging by Hermione's reaction, she wasn't too disappointed to see me."  
  
Harry felt an odd sensation, like someone had inflated a balloon in his chest and then popped it abruptly. He kept his face straight though, and glared at Draco. " Yes, well, I didn't expect you to snog Hermione on the back lawn."  
  
Draco raised an eyebrow. " You were watching us?"  
  
" No." Harry said, awkwardly averting his gaze.  
  
"Well, Potter," Draco drawled, " this is a whole new level of pathetic, even for you. Here's a wild thought: why don't you stay out of my relationship with Hermione?"  
  
" Relationship?" Harry echoed.  
  
Draco folded his arms. " Yeah, and what of it? You have something to say, Potter, then spit it out."  
  
Harry merely stared at him for a moment, then abruptly turned to the staircase. "I need to practice Quidditch." he said, and bolted up the stairs.  
  
Draco frowned after him. " Quidditch?" he repeated aloud. He shook his head and was about to head toward the fireplace to use the floo network when he spotted Ginny in the hallway. Her eyebrows were narrowed, and she didn't seem too happy. Draco met her gaze and grinned. " Well, well, if it isn't Weasley number seven."  
  
Folding her arms, she glared at him. " I detest bullies."  
  
" And I detest the practice of dressing animals in costumes," Draco returned evenly. " Glad we have that out in the open now."  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Why are you still here, Malfoy? And why do you keep staring at me like that?"  
  
Draco met her gaze. " I just hate to see a pretty girl wasting away while she waits for some wanker."  
  
" I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy." Ginny snapped in return, her eyes livid. " Harry and I are very much in love."  
  
" Please, Ginny, not even Weasleys are that stupid." Draco returned, his eyes sparkling with mirth. " Harry only thinks he loves you because you're such a fixture in his life. Like Ron or Dumbledore or Hedwig."  
  
" Well, he's not looking to snog Hedwig," Ginny snapped irritably, " or if he is then he's beyond my help." Draco smiled at this, which only served to annoy Ginny further. " Oh, come off it, Malfoy. Hermione doesn't love you, either."  
  
He continued to smile, but there was no longer any amusement in his eyes. "Well, you've proved me wrong." he said quietly. " Apparently, Weasleys ARE that stupid."  
  
Angrily, he turned and headed out the front door, slamming it for good measure. Ginny flinched at the noise but continued to watch after him long after he'd gone.  
  
***  
  
By the time Harry realized that he didn't really intend to play Quidditch, he'd already gathered all of his things together. It was tempting to just forget everything else and jump on his Firebolt, but Harry had a sudden, horrible vision of himself distractedly flying into a telephone wire and winding up with hair like Madame Hooch.  
  
" Bugger this," he said, dropping his equipment. Determinedly, he closed his eyes and imagined himself in the backyard...  
  
A moment later, he had apparated outside, landing—rather unfortunately—on top of Hermione. She let out a squeal of surprise. " Harry!"  
  
Flushing, Harry scrambled to his feet. *Do NOT think about being on top of Hermione,* he directed himself, though he couldn't help but reflect that she'd felt rather soft and firm and smelled like peppermint...  
  
" Sorry," Harry said quickly. " But I need to talk to you."  
  
Hermione frowned at him. " Why are you wearing your old Quidditch uniforms?"  
  
Harry glanced down and saw that he had forgotten to change back into his normal clothes. "Ur...Ron wanted a match, but I needed to have a word with you first."   
  
It was a plausible reason, but Harry found that now that he was outside with Hermione, he could no longer think of anything to say to her. She was watching him expectantly, and he felt stupider and stupider with each and every second that stretched on in silence.  
  
" How did things go with Malfoy?" he asked finally.  
  
Hermione blushed. " Um...fine. Thank you for owling him, Harry."  
  
He was not about to be distracted by her gratitude. " Well, I've noticed how close you two seem." He cleared his throat. "Just...um...just how close is that, exactly?"  
  
" What do you mean?"  
  
Harry looked into her eyes, steeling himself. " Is he your boyfriend?"  
  
Hermione sighed and glanced down at her hands. " Things are complicated with Draco," she admitted. " I couldn't really explain it to you."  
  
" Not really," Harry countered. " You just open your mouth and use your vocal chords..."  
  
He knew he was being a git, but he felt powerless to stop himself. It was as though someone had taken over his body. He was a mere puppet now, dangling precariously from a set of strings. In a moment, the puppet master would no doubt make him perform an embarrassing dance and make him look even more ridiculous than he already felt.  
  
Hermione's face had stiffened. " Harry, I'd rather not discuss it with you, if you don't mind."  
  
And the puppet master took control again. " But I do mind, Hermione. Why is it that you can talk to Malfoy and not to me? You're my best friend. I want to help you."  
  
" Because you can't possibly understand!" Hermione burst out. " You don't know what it's like to lose your parents!"  
  
As soon as the words had been spoken, Hermione covered her mouth in horror. "Oh, Harry," she gasped, " Harry, I'm so sorry!"  
  
Numbly, Harry stared at her. " You're right," he said finally, " I'm sorry that I never knew my parents, 'cuz if I had then I could be in your little club--"  
  
Hermione jumped to her feet and threw herself at him, crushing him in her embrace. " I didn't mean it, Harry! I'm sorry. It's too much...it's all too much, but I never meant to take it out on you. Never you."  
  
Harry hesitated, but only for a moment, and then he returned the embrace, wrapping his arms around her. "I'm sorry, too," he said. " Your relationship with Draco is your own business. I have no right to interfere."  
  
They stayed like that until it became a bit too awkward, then drew away. Hermione looked as though she was about to sit back down, but Harry took her hands impulsively. " Come with me."  
  
Hermione glanced down at their intertwined fingers then back into his eyes. "Where?"  
  
" Just come with me," Harry said. " I have an idea..."  
  
***  
  
I thrive on reviews! Don't make me starve. 


	12. Flight

chapter twelve: Flight  
  
Hermione sighed contently. Harry had some grand secret surprise to show her, and so that meant that he didn't want her to see anything until they got there. Which naturally meant that he had to keep one hand over her eyes and another on the small of her back to guide her. Which meant that, for the last few minutes, she'd been constantly touching Harry. It was nice, and surprisingly not as awkward as she might have feared. There was something different about Harry tonight; it was like the long lost boy who lived in the cupboard had emerged and was frolicking rather recklessly. It was nice.  
  
"Swear you can't see anything?" Harry inquired, his tone mischievous.  
  
Hermione smiled. "Honestly, Harry, I can't see a thing. Are we almost there?"  
  
"Just a few more seconds...there!"  
  
With a grand flourish, Harry's hand was gone from her eyes. Hermione blinked once or twice to steady her gaze, then realized she was standing at the entrance to an elaborate Muggle fair of some sort. This was definitely not what she had expected.  
  
And suddenly, Harry was self-conscious again, and he was plunging a hand through his dark hair. "We don't have to stay, but the Dursleys never let me go with them and I thought it might be kind of fun--"  
  
"It's lovely." Hermione said, smiling at him.  
  
They had scarcely made it inside before Harry was being distracted left and right. It was obvious that he hadn't been lying about never being in a fair before; he was so enthusiastic that he was acting like one of the Creevy brothers. "Look, that man's blowing fire out of his mouth! Ooh, Hermione, can we go on that ride?" His eyes widened into two emerald green saucers. "Cotton candy!"  
  
Hermione opened her mouth to inform him that it was nothing but sugar that would rot away at his teeth—she had been raised by dentists, after all—but melted under the boyish excitement on his face. "Try the blue kind," she suggested, "it's my favorite."  
  
"I'll be right back!" Harry assured her, rushing over to the stand.  
  
Hermione smiled fondly after him. It had been so long since she'd seen Harry that happy...in fact, if she was being honest, she could admit that she had only seen Harry that carefree a handful of times in her life. It made everything better somehow. The world was a better place when Harry was happy.  
  
"Waiting for someone?" a deep voice inquired.  
  
Hermione turned to see a tall greasy fellow smiling at her with a leering sort of smile. She could almost tangibly feel his eyes raking over her, and she took a step back uncertainly.  
  
"My friend," Hermione said, "he should be back in just a moment..."  
  
The boy took another step closer to her. "I wouldn't let you out of my sight if you were my friend. Come on, ditch the bloke. I'll show you a good time..." He reached for her as though to make good on his promise.  
  
Hermione felt an arm slip around her waist, and when she looked over, Harry had appeared miraculously at her side, cotton candy forgotten. He pulled Hermione protectively toward him, glowering at the other boy. "Is there a problem, Hermione?"  
  
"Oh, no," Hermione said quickly, not able to keep the relief from her voice, "no problem at all..."  
  
She leaned her head up against Harry's shoulder and allowed him to guide her away. When they were gone, Harry stopped and looked down at her. "You all right?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "Thanks for rescuing me...my knight in shining armor." She batted her eyelashes at him for good measure.  
  
Harry grinned at her. "Well, you're the one who told me I had a complex about saving people."  
  
"You do have a complex about saving people," Hermione reminded him.  
  
Harry's face sobered suddenly. "I didn't save you, though. Not when it really counted."  
  
Hermione forced a smile, though her heart was aching for him. "I'm here now," she said softly, squeezing his hand.  
  
But she could see that Harry was still troubled, and she didn't want to ruin such a lovely evening, not when he'd been in such a good mood. Impulsively, she grabbed his hand and pulled him to a nearby door. "Come on!"  
  
They entered a dark, virtually abandoned building. Harry looked around in wonder. "What is this place?"  
  
"It's called a fun house," Hermione informed him. She stopped him in front of a mirror. "Look."  
  
Harry's head was nearly twice the size of his body, and his large green eyes were especially magnified, rather resembling Professor Trelawney. He laughed. "How does it get to be so distorted?"  
  
Hermione grinned at him. "Distorted? That's what you always look like to me, Harry..."  
  
"Oh yeah?" He grabbed her and placed her in front of an adjacent mirror. Her stomach was suddenly three times its normal size, bulging most unflatteringly. Harry snickered. "You look like Aunt Marge..."  
  
They proceeded to hop in front of the various mirrors, sometimes together, sometimes separate. By the time they had reached the other door, they were both doubled over in laughter, tears gathering in their eyes.  
  
Hermione leaned up against the side of the building, trying to catch her breath. "I actually looked pretty good in the last one," she joked. "My, ur...chest was a lot bigger than usual."  
  
Harry grinned at her. "They must have switched that mirror with the Mirror of Erised--"  
  
Hermione swatted at him, though she couldn't help but laugh. "Harry James Potter, I hope you aren't the sort of boy who only likes a girl because she has a nice body."  
  
He shrugged, eyes mischievous. "Every red-blooded guy appreciates the female form, Hermione."  
  
"I'm doomed to be a spinster then," Hermione said, sighing melodramatically.  
  
Harry shook his head. "Don't be silly, Hermione. You know you're..." He stopped, looking suddenly embarrassed.  
  
Hermione felt a flush rising to her own cheeks. "I'm what, Harry?"  
  
He cleared his throat, then glanced over his shoulder. "Look, Hermione, there's the Ferris Wheel. Let's give it a go!"  
  
Taking her by the hand, he half dragged her over to the ticket booth. Hermione looked at him uncertainly. "Harry, I've always hated heights..."  
  
"Come on, Hermione," Harry pleaded, meeting her gaze. "For me?"  
  
Oh, Merlin, this boy was going to be the death of her.  
  
To Hermione's chagrin, they virtually zipped through the line and were boarding the ride before she could think of a plausible excuse to back out. In a matter of moments, they were chained into the little compartment and were rising off the ground.  
  
Hermione dug her nails into her palms before it was too much to bear, and then she frantically buried her face into Harry's shoulder. "Tell me when it's over!"  
  
Harry laughed. "Come on, Hermione, it's not that bad..."  
  
The ride came to a sudden and screeching halt. Hermione whimpered. "What is it? Did we crash?"  
  
"They stopped the ride," Harry informed her. "They do that every so often."  
  
She snorted. "And of course they just HAD to do it when we were stuck at the top, didn't they?"  
  
"Hermione..." Gently, Harry lifted her face from his shoulder and motioned to the night sky. "Look at the view. And look how bright the stars are tonight. It's beautiful up here."  
  
Taking in a deep breath, Hermione ventured to look out into the night air. She gasped. Harry was right—it was beautiful! Terrifying, but beautiful nonetheless. Wonderingly, she turned her gaze to him. "Is this what it's like to play Quidditch?"  
  
Harry nodded. "It's a whole different world up here, Hermione."  
  
She understood what he meant. Watching him play Quidditch was always like watching someone else. There was no Voldemort to contend with up there, no Snape or scars or anything else. He was just a boy doing something that he loved.  
  
When she looked up at Harry again, she realized with a start that he had been watching her. He looked away, suddenly embarrassed, and an awkward silence stretched out between them.  
  
"I'm glad to have you back, Hermione." Harry said softly. "I missed you."  
  
Hermione smiled crookedly. " I wasn't dead for that long, Harry."  
  
"Too long." Harry countered. "Besides, I meant before that, too. It seems like ages since it's been just the two of us."  
  
*Because of Ginny*, Hermione thought, and tried to push the thought aside. She liked Ginny—she really did. But could she love Harry as much as Hermione did? Did her heart pound the same way whenever he came into view? Did her skin tingle the same way at his touch?  
  
Hermione realized that she had been silent for too long; Harry was looking at her with evident concern. "Are you all right, Hermione? I didn't...upset you, did I?"  
  
She shook her head quickly. "No, Harry, I just...I missed you, too."  
  
They were very close to one another now, and he was looking into her eyes, and there were butterflies in her stomach and sweat on her palms and it seemed as though he was leaning forward and that their lips would be touching at any second now...  
  
The Ferris Wheel came back to life, and they were moving once more. Harry jerked back, leaning up against the side of the box. "Guess we're running again," Harry said.  
  
Hermione didn't reply, just gazed glumly at the lights below.  
  
***  
  
When they arrived back at the Burrow, the lights were already out and it was apparent that everyone was already asleep. As they reached the foot of the stairs, Hermione turned to Harry quickly and smiled at him. "Thanks, Harry, that was really fun." She hesitated for a moment, then kissed him on the cheek. "Goodnight!"  
  
Harry watched her as she ran up the stairs, his hand stealing up to his cheek where she had kissed him, lingering there. He stood there for a moment, lost in thought, then turned to head into the kitchen. He felt suddenly and inexplicably ravenous.  
  
To his surprise, Ron was standing in the living room, watching him in the shadows. Harry started then shook his head, clutching at his chest. "Geez, Ron, you scared the crap out of me. What are you doing there?"  
  
Ron didn't move. "Did you and Hermione have a fun time then?"  
  
Harry frowned at him, somewhat discomfited at Ron's tone. "Yeah, it was loads of fun."  
  
"Where'd you go?"  
  
Harry's frown deepened. "A Muggle fair." He stepped closer to his best friend. "Ron, what's going on? Why are you sitting here in the dark?"  
  
Ron shrugged. "Just waiting for you guys to get back. Since I didn't get invited along, I thought I might as well get to hear about it."  
  
So that was it. Harry let out a sigh. "Sorry, Ron, we didn't mean to exclude you. It was kind of a spur of the moment thing." He smiled at Ron, searching for understanding in his face.  
  
Ron didn't smile back. "I thought it was going to be different when she came back. I thought we'd be the trio again."  
  
Harry frowned again. "Honestly, Ron, we weren't going behind your back or anything. Things have just been kind of hectic since Hermione came back. We'll all hang out again—tomorrow even. We can go on a picnic or something."   
  
"That's not what I meant!" Ron snapped, his brows furrowed. " I don't care that you two hung out tonight. I don't even care that I've barely gotten to spend any time with her since she came back."  
  
Harry was at a loss. " Then what's the problem, Ron?"  
  
"When Hermione died, you changed." Ron informed him. "We used to be best friends, all three of us. And I thought that if anything happened, we'd always go on being friends. But you stopped being my friend as soon as she died. And I thought that if she came back, things would be the same. We'd all hang out again and be the Trio and everything would be all fine and dandy. But it's not the same. It's you and Ginny or it's you and Hermione or it's Hermione and Draco, but what about me? Where do I fit in?"  
  
" I'm sorry, Ron," Harry stammered. " I never meant to make you feel this way."  
  
Ron sighed, relenting a bit. " I know you didn't, Harry. But that's just the thing. Nothing's the same anymore, and I don't know what to do. I just don't know what to do."  
  
He sighed again, staring down at his hands. "Listen, just forget I said anything. It's been a long night, that's all. Mum and Dad were fighting all through dinner. But things will look better in the morning."  
  
With that, he turned and trudged up the stairs. Silently Harry watched after him, frowning.   
  
***  
  
I thrive on reviews. Don't make me starve!  
  
A/N: The fair scene was inspired by 'East of Eden', a great old flick starring James Dean. Hope you enjoy it! 


	13. Unlucky

chapter thirteen: Unlucky  
  
Harry was roused rather unceremoniously from sleep the next morning. Someone was shaking his shoulder, and without his glasses on he could only make out a blurry figure with red hair.  
  
"Wake up, Harry." he recognized the voice as belonging to Mr. Weasley. "Mrs. Weasley and I need a word with everyone in the kitchen."  
  
Frowning, Harry reached for his glasses and slipped them on. Ron was already yawning as he padded toward the door, and Harry caught a brief glimpse of Fred and George passing in the hall. Tiredly, he stumbled out of bed to join them.  
  
Everyone else was already gathered together in the living room by the time he got there. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were seated rigidly on the sofa, their faces grim, and Hermione and Ginny looked tired but worried in the corner. Charley and Percy were off at their jobs, and Bill had taken off the morning before, but everyone else was there.  
  
"What's going on?" Fred quipped. "Did someone die or something?"  
  
The joke fell flat in the air. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were sitting very straight, Harry noticed, and though they were next to each other, they weren't touching. It wasn't an uncommon sight to see Mrs. Weasley upset, but even Mr. Weasley seemed very somber for some reason. Harry seated himself on the ground uneasily.  
  
"Kids," Mr. Weasley began tentatively, "there's something we have to tell you."  
  
Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance. "Would you like us to leave?" Hermione suggested politely.  
  
Mrs. Weasley shook her head, and suddenly her lip was trembling. "No, no. You're both a part of this family."  
  
After Harry and Hermione had settled back, Mr. Weasley cleared his throat. "Your mother and I..." He stopped, shaking his head. "Perhaps I should explain a little. Things have been rather tense around here lately, for various reasons."  
  
Hermione flinched, and Mrs. Weasley looked to her quickly. "Don't worry, dear, we aren't talking about you. There've been plenty of problems to choose from."  
  
Mr. Weasley looked down at his hands. "We've talked this over a great deal, and your mother and I have decided to get a divorce."  
  
Silence. Harry waited half-heartedly for the camera crew to jump out from behind the fireplace and yell, "Candid camera!", but it didn't happen. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were watching their children anxiously now, but no one seemed to be displaying any emotion at all.  
  
"Bullocks!" George cried abruptly, rising to his feet. His face was uncharacteristically angry. "This is rubbish! I can't believe you're doing this to us."  
  
"George..." Mrs. Weasley began, stretching her hand toward him plaintively.  
  
Ron was staring at the carpet numbly, his face blank. "This can't be happening," he murmured, "this can't be happening..."  
  
Mr. Weasley looked rather ill. "This wasn't an easy decision. Please believe that. But we have to do what we think is best."  
  
"And the best thing is to destroy the family?" Fred retorted. He glanced over at the clock on the wall, his gaze falling upon his missing brothers. "Do the others know about this?"  
  
"We've already owled them." Mrs. Weasley confirmed quietly. "They aren't pleased, but they've come to accept our decision."  
  
George looked positively livid now. "Well, I won't accept it! How could you do this?"  
  
"This can't be happening," Ron repeated, rocking back and forth ever so slightly, "this can't be happening, this can't be happening..."  
  
Mrs. Weasley looked utterly miserable. She turned her gaze to her only daughter. "Ginny, dear, please say something. Are you all right?"  
  
Ginny's face was unreadable. She seemed to be waging some great war in her mind. And then suddenly, abruptly, she rose to her feet, her eyes brimming with rage as she turned on Hermione. "This is all your fault!" she screeched.  
  
This seemed to take everyone aback. Mr. Weasley started toward Ginny. "Sweetheart, of course this isn't Hermione's fault. She had nothing to do with it..."  
  
"I hate you!" Ginny cried, her eyes still fixed on Hermione. "You did this and I'll never forgive you!"  
  
She turned and raced out of the room, with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley following close behind. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, and then George rose to his feet. "I'm not staying here," he said firmly, and took off out the back door. Fred went after him.  
  
Harry looked about the room, stunned. Was he really in the Weasley home? This sort of thing wasn't supposed to happen here. The Weasleys loved each other. They had always been Harry's rock, his safe harbor.   
  
Not anymore it seemed.  
  
Harry looked to Ron, uncertain of what he could possibly say to ease the hurt. "Ron, are you all right?"  
  
Ron met his gaze, his eyes troubled. Then slowly he turned to look at Hermione. "Ginny was right," he said quietly, but without malice. "She was right, wasn't she?"  
  
Harry looked quickly to Hermione; this was the last thing she needed right now. "Hermione, he doesn't mean it. He's just in shock, that's all."  
  
But Hermione was frowning. "No," she said slowly, "No, Harry. He's right."  
  
***  
  
I thrive on reviews--don't make me starve! 


	14. Consequences

chapter fourteen: consequences  
  
Harry stared at Hermione for a moment, then looked to Ron, and then back at Hermione again. "Am I missing something? How on Earth could this be Hermione's fault?"  
  
Hermione cast her gaze downward at her hands and had just opened her mouth to speak when there was a sudden woosh of wind in the fireplace. Draco stepped out, coughing and brushing off his clothing. "Geesh, Weasel, how long has it been since you cleaned out the fireplace?"  
  
He was greeted with three sullen stares. Draco held up his hands in surrender, taking a step back. "Whoa–sorry. Your fireplace maintenance is your own business."  
  
"Draco, please, sit down." Hermione said quietly.  
  
Harry straightened indignantly. "He has no right to be here now, Hermione. This is between us and the Weasleys– "  
  
"It concerns him, too." Ron said flatly.   
  
Harry looked at him in surprised but closed his mouth. If Ron was willing to support Draco's right to be there then there must be some reason for it. Draco shot him a brief, triumphant look and then seated himself on the ground. "So, what did I miss?"  
  
"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley just announced that they're getting divorce," Hermione informed him, still staring down at her hands.  
  
Draco stared at her in open shock, his usually cool, unflappable demeanor gone. He glanced over at Ron. "Your mum and dad? But...they're like the Cunninghams!"  
  
Ron frowned at him. "The who?"  
  
"Muggle stuff," Harry informed him briskly, trying not to reflect on why Draco of all people would be making a pop culture reference. He turned to Hermione. "So now that we're all caught up, would you mind explaining what is going on?"  
  
"Dumbledore said there might be consequences for my coming back," Hermione reminded him. "But until now, I didn't quite connect it all together. Think about it, Harry. All of our worst fears are coming true. My parents told me they didn't want me. Ginny walked in on you and me kissing. Dumbledore is leaving Hogwarts, just as you always feared. And now, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are divorcing, which I'm guessing is one of Ron's deepest fears."  
  
Harry took a moment to process all of this. Of course. Why hadn't he recognized it sooner?  
  
"But why is this happening?" Ron inquired. "And why to us specifically?"  
  
Hermione shrugged. "I'm not quite sure, Ron, but I think it's affecting the people I love the most, for whatever reason."  
  
Beside her, Draco stiffened but remained quiet.  
  
Harry tentatively reached out and took Hermione's hand. "Even if this is a side-effect of your resurrection– which we're not completely sure of– that doesn't mean it's your fault. You didn't cause this, Hermione."  
  
She laughed, but there was little humor in the sound. "Didn't I, Harry? This never would have happened without me. If I hadn't died in the first place...if I hadn't come back...you would all be happy now."  
  
With that said, she rose abruptly to her feet and raced out the back door. Harry started up after her, but Draco held up a hand. "Let me field this, Potter."  
  
Something about Draco's expression kept Harry from arguing. He watched as they left, a disquieting sort of feeling starting in the pit of his stomach. "Malfoy really cares for her, doesn't he?" he realized aloud.  
  
"Yeah," Ron agreed, with a decided lack of enthusiasm. He was quiet for a moment, then he shook his head. "This whole thing must be bothering him pretty badly."  
  
Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"  
  
Ron shrugged. "Well, think about it. All of the people Hermione loves the most are experiencing their worst fears. Draco hasn't. Must make him feel pretty left out."  
  
"I don't know about that, Ron. He's probably pretty happy that he doesn't have to watch his worst fear come to life." Harry countered. "Besides, it's probably better this way. I doubt we'd want to see Draco's worst fear come to life."  
  
Ron laughed. "Yeah, it would probably be something like him forgetting to wear his clothes. And no one wants to see that."  
  
Harry started to laugh along with him, then frowned. "No...no, I think it would be something deeper than that. Something like hurting someone he cared for, like..."  
  
"Hermione." Ron finished for him.  
  
They stared at one another for a moment and then rushed out the door.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Draco caught up with Hermione at the edge of the Weasley's property. She was leaning up against the fence, her face morose as she stared up into the sky. "I'm trying not to pity myself too much," she said as he approached, "but it's been rather hard lately."  
  
He stepped up beside her. "Go ahead, if you'd like. Nothing wrong with a little self-loathing." She smiled ever so slightly. Encouraged by this, Draco turned to face her. "But while you're sitting there feeling sorry for yourself, keep something in mind for me, won't you?"  
  
Hermione looked to him, frowning ever so slightly. "What?"  
  
Draco reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind one ear. "You were wrong when you said we'd be happier without you here. We wouldn't be happy. We'd be miserable. And hey, this might seem miserable now, but it's a better kind of miserable, because you're here. Remember that."  
  
Eyes shining with tears, Hermione leaned forward and embraced him. "I'm so glad you're here," she said simply.  
  
For a moment they stood that way silently. And then Draco cleared his throat. "Sometimes I wonder."  
  
Hermione frowned. "What?"  
  
"Sometimes I wonder." Draco repeated. "I mean, you say you're glad to have me around, but you sure don't act that way sometimes." He took her by the arms, pushing her back so that they were face to face. "Do you think I don't see the way you look at Harry?"  
  
"Draco, you're hurting me."  
  
He laughed at this. "Well, how does it feel for a change, Granger?" He shook his head, letting out a frustrated burst of air. "What do I have to do to get your attention, anyway? Haven't I been nice enough? Haven't I supported you enough? That's not even in my nature, but I do it for you. And yet it's still Harry this and Harry that. When are you going to realize that I'm the better man?"  
  
Hermione was struggling to be free from him now; he could see the fingermarks he was leaving on her skin. "Draco, you're really scaring me now."  
  
Abruptly, Draco released his hold on her, pushing her down to the ground. "Maybe I've been going about this wrong," he mused, standing over her. "Maybe I should stop trying to be the fuzzy, cuddly Draco that I think you want me to be. That's not what you want, is it Hermione? Not really. You want the pain."  
  
He grabbed her by the hair, pulling up roughly, ignoring her gasp of pain. For a moment, he merely smiled at the fright in her eyes. And then suddenly, there was a flicker of something in his eyes and he released her, rubbing at his face.  
  
Hermione fell away from him, crawling backward in an attempt to put distance between them. She paused about seven feet away, noting the anguish written clearly on his face. "Draco...?"  
  
"Hermione," he said shakily, "run."  
  
She rose obediently to her feet and ran back toward the house. In a matter of seconds, she heard Draco behind her, rapidly closing the distance. She felt another burst of speed driving her legs, but it wouldn't be enough. He would catch her at any second...  
  
Glancing behind her, she bumped into something tall and firm. It took her a moment to realize it was Ron. She clutched at his arm desperately, glancing over her shoulder. "Ron, there's something wrong with Draco..."  
  
"I know," he assured her, pushing her behind him. He pulled out his wand, studying the trees around them uncertainly. It was early in the morning and the sun was not yet completely up, casting far too many ambiguous shadows. "Malfoy? Come out and we won't hurt you."  
  
There was only silence, during which Hermione fervently wished that she hadn't forgotten her own wand up in Ginny's bedroom. And then there was a blur of movement as Draco jumped out from behind a tree, tackling Ron to the ground. Before Ron could react, Draco reared back his hand and punched him in the face, hard.  
  
"Ron!" Hermione screamed, starting toward him.  
  
Draco intercepted her before she could get there, his eyes filled with murderous rage. "You'd go to just about anyone else besides me, wouldn't you?" he accused, throwing her down to the ground once more. Hermione's head hit the base of the tree with a hard thunk. Ignoring this, Draco stood over her, his features pulled back in a sneer. "Well, not anymore. If you don't want me, you can't have anyone."  
  
An angry yell broke through the yard, and Harry jumped out, tackling Draco to the ground. Draco snarled and pulled out his wand, holding it to Harry's throat. "Well, well, if it isn't the Boy Who Lived. Personally, I never really thought the name suited you all that well. Perhaps we should change it to the Boy Who Died Like the Pathetic Worm He Was." He pulled back ever so slightly, his eyes glinting. "Avada– "  
  
"STUPEFY!"  
  
Draco stopped mid-word, his features suddenly rigid. With a moan, he slumped to the ground. Breathing heavily, Harry pushed off his lifeless form and sat up to see Ginny standing there, a determined glint in her eyes.  
  
"Ginny," Harry breathed, "thank goodness you were here. Malfoy wasn't acting like himself– he was under a sort of trance because..."  
  
"I know." Ginny returned. "I was listening in the hall." She moved over to Hermione, crouching down beside her and examining her head.  
  
Harry frowned, half-crawling toward her. "Is she all right?"  
  
Ginny stood back up, her face impassive. "A few bumps and bruises. Nothing that Madam Pomfrey can't fix."  
  
"Madam Pomfrey...?" Harry repeated, frowning.  
  
"We're going to Hogwarts," Ginny informed him matter-of-factly, "to make things right. To change things back to the way they're supposed to be."


	15. Black Magic

chapter fifteen: black magic  
  
They moved through the corridors of Hogwarts silently, each lost in their own thoughts. Draco, still unconscious, was being levitated behind them, courtesy of one of Ginny's spells; Harry was astounded by how powerful she had become.  
  
"I still don't understand why we're here," Hermione admitted, breaking the silence. Her voice echoed eerily through the hollow halls.  
  
Ginny didn't even bother glancing back at her. "This is the only place with the right ingredients for the spell to set things right."  
  
"Hold on." Ron moved to his sister, grabbing her arm and turning her to face him. "Since when did you become the bleeding expert on all of this?   
  
"There's no time for this, Ronald," Ginny snapped irritably.  
  
Behind Ron, Harry folded his arms. "Make time."  
  
Ginny glanced back and forth between them, then gave an exsperated sigh. "Fine. I– I'm the one who brought Hermione back."  
  
Hermione gasped; the two boys stared at her in shock. "But you said you didn't know there was a spell that could bring back the dead," Harry reminded her, "you looked as surprised as we were."  
  
"I was surprised," Ginny insisted, glancing over at Hermione. "I didn't even realize what I'd done until a short while ago. After Hermione died, everything was different." She looked at Harry pointedly. "_You_ were different. I cast a spell to return things to the way they were."  
  
"And brought me back in the process," Hermione finished for her.  
  
Ginny nodded. "I don't know what I expected to happen, but it certainly wasn't this. But we can make things right again. I remember there was a counter-spell in the book." She sighed, looking away. "We can all be happy again, but we have to act quickly. The counter-spell will only work if it's performed within ninety days of her death."  
  
Ron shook his head ruefully. "Quite a warranty, that is."  
  
They turned and followed Ginny down the hall once more. She moved purposefully to Snape's classroom, glancing around the hallway to make certain no one was coming. "Alohamora," she whispered, pointing her wand at the door. It unlocked, and the group slid inside. Ginny moved Draco's body over to a table-top and let it rest there. Next, Ginny moved to a shelf and pulled out a book, ripping out a page about midway through. "Here are the ingredients. Ron, you find the eye of newt, the whippoorwill tongue, and the daisy dew. Hermione– "  
  
But before she could finish the thought, Hermione let out a little moan and stumbled forward. Harry caught her before she hit the ground.  
  
Ron moved toward them, his eyes widened. "Is she all right?"  
  
"Hermione?" Harry questioned, pushing her hair from her eyes.   
  
She blinked at him, looking vaguely disoriented for a moment before recognizing him and smiling. "Harry."  
  
Harry glanced up at the others. "I think she has a concussion, from hitting her head on the tree."  
  
"Stay with her," Ginny instructed. "We'll get the ingredients."  
  
The two Weasleys moved about the room, uncharacteristically business-like. Harry looked down at Hermione once more. "Are you all right? Try to stay awake."  
  
The goofy smile had faded from Hermione's face, and she was looking up at Harry earnestly. "Harry, please, I want you to make me a promise. Try to understand."  
  
Harry frowned at her. "Try to understand what, Hermione?"  
  
To their left, Draco stirred as he regained consciousness. He looked positively panicked for a moment, and then his gaze fell upon Hermione and he gave a shuddering sigh. "Thank God."  
  
In an instant, Harry's wand was in his hand. "Don't move, Malfoy."  
  
Hermione met Draco's gaze and then raised a hand to Harry's arm. "It's all right, Harry. He's back now."  
  
"Don't worry about it, Hermione," Draco said quietly. "I deserve worse."  
  
"It wasn't your fault, Draco," Hermione returned kindly. "It was all part of the spell." She glanced up at Harry, giving him a reluctant smile. "Could you give Draco and me a moment?"  
  
Harry had just opened his mouth to protest when Ron called to him from the other side of the room. "Harry? A word. Now."  
  
Gently, Harry removed himself from underneath Hermione and half-jogged to where Ginny and Ron were standing. It was hard to tell in the darkness of the room, but Ron's face looked absolutely livid. Harry slowed to a stop, his chest flooding with foreboding. "What? What is it?"  
  
"Tell him," Ron demanded, motioning at Harry with his thumb.  
  
Harry turned to Ginny. "What's going on?"  
  
Ginny looked just as infuriated as her brother. "The spell is a very complicated thing, Harry," she explained, her voice tight and clipped, "This isn't fluffy bunny magic. It's dark stuff, and we have to accept the consequences."  
  
Ron's eyes were blazing now. "Tell him, Ginny!"  
  
She cast her gaze down to the ground. "The first spell brought back a life, Harry," she said softly, "and so the counterspell...requires a life in exchange. It will put everything back to the way it was– including Hermione."  
  
No.  
  
No.  
  
No.  
  
For the first few moments, that was the only conscious thought that ran through Harry's mind. He felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced back, realizing that Draco had helped Hermione across the room. She met his gaze with tear-filled eyes.  
  
"I said you'd have to understand, Harry," she reminded him. "I don't want to go, but we have to set things right. I can't let everyone suffer just to keep my life."  
  
And Harry finally vocalized his initial train of thought. "No– no. There has to be another way."  
  
Ginny shook her head. "The text is very clear, Harry. A life for a life. That's what it requires."  
  
Harry shook his head. "No. I won't accept this."  
  
There were tears slipping down Hermione's face now. "You have to, Harry." She turned to Ginny and Ron. "Get the spell ready. Go on– go!"   
  
They obediently began to move about the room. Draco ducked his gaze and took a step back. "I'll see if I can help," he said.  
  
When they were gone, Harry turned to Hermione and clutched at her almost desperately. "Hermione, you can't. I won't let you die. Not again."  
  
"I don't want to go, Harry," Hermione returned, her voice quivering, "but this is the way it was supposed to be. You can move on with your life now, and everyone can be happy–"  
  
"No. No!" Harry shook his head vehemently. "I don't want a life without you, Hermione. I...I love you."  
  
He said it with some wonder in his voice, having only just realized it himself. He loved Hermione. He _loved_ Hermione. And he had realized it too late.  
  
Any self control that Hermione had previously exercised was gone; she began to sob openly. "Oh, please don't say that to me– not now. If there was any other way...but this is only making it harder, don't you see?" She sniffled, wiping at her face with one hand. "Oh, to Hell with it."  
  
She threw herself forward, kissing him with all of the love and passion she'd been hiding for the past several years. Harry returned the kiss desperately, ignoring for the moment that Ginny and Ron and Draco were probably all watching. She was the only thing that mattered now. She was the only thing that had ever mattered.  
  
When they finally pulled apart, Harry refused to release her. "Don't go," he begged, "don't go, please don't go..."  
  
She shuddered in his arms. "I have to, Harry."  
  
They remained like that until Ginny approached, her face impassive. "Hermione," she said, "we're ready." 


	16. The Way We Were

Chapter sixteen: The Way We Were

Still squeezing Harry's hand, Hermione turned to make her way over to the cauldron but was intercepted by Draco and Ron. "Weasel and I have taken a vote," said Draco, "we've decided we don't care how screwed up this world is– we don't want to change it back."

Hermione felt Harry's hand tighten around hers. "I second that motion," he said, his voice sounding unnaturally thick.

"But..." Hermione furrowed her brow. "My parents don't love me anymore."

"My parents never loved me," said Draco, shrugging, "I managed to get through it all right. Besides, you've got four people here who love you, and that's more than a lot of people can say."

Hermione chewed on her lower lip. "Dumbledore isn't headmaster at Hogwarts," she reminded them.

"I'm sure we can convince him to go back," said Harry, "and even if we can't, maybe Dumbledore deserves some time off. He's certainly paid his dues."

She looked finally to Ron. "And your parents– they're getting a divorce."

Ron's eyes were pained, but he shook his head. "Doesn't matter. You're more important than any of that."

Hermione was silent for a moment, and then she turned her gaze to Ginny, gauging her reaction. Ginny kept her eyes trained on the cauldron. Finally, she looked up and smiled. "Looks like you're staying, then," she said. "I agree with everyone else–none of it matters, Hermione. You're more important than that."

There was a moment of silence as everyone processed this, and then Ginny turned and began busying herself. "We'll have to clean up the ingredients. Who knew anti-anti death spells could get so messy...?"

"Nothing a simple cleaning charm can't fix."

The room had suddenly become silent, deathly still. All eyes turned toward the doorway, where familiar red-rimmed eyes peered from underneath a dark hood. Hermione felt her stomach lurch with fear.

Reacting instinctively, Harry stepped in front of her. "Voldemort," he said, clearly trying to control the fear in his voice. "But how...?"

Voldemort stepped into the room, an unpleasant grin stretching out over his rotting and decrepit features. "Funny thing about raising the dead," he breathed, eyes boring into Harry, "you bring back something good and you bring back something unpleasant with it. Keeps balance in the universe. You were able to kill me because she--" He leveled a long, bony finger at Hermione, "–gave the ultimate sacrifice of love. But now that she's back, that sacrifice is null in void. Who knew that one little girl could have so much power?"

In a flash, he had crossed the room and taken Hermione by the front of her robes. "Believe me, I won't make that mistake again."

Harry, Draco, and Ron all tried to lunge for her, but they weren't quick enough. Voldemort put his wand to Hermione's throat, thrusting it into her skin. "Try anything and the little girl gets it," he said, backing out of the room.

And then they were gone.

Harry stared for a moment, too numb to move or think. Finally, he regained his faculties and whirled around to face the others. "We have to get her back," he said.

Draco stared at him. "How? Do you really think he's gonna put her someplace we can find her? He could have already sent her to another dimension, someplace we could never reach."

Harry slammed his fist down on the table. "Then I'll die trying!"

Ron ran a hand through his red hair. "I don't understand," he said, "if Voldemort kills Hermione, then won't things just be turned back to normal?"

"He won't try to kill her," murmured Ginny, "he'll just hide her someplace until she dies so the spell never takes effect. And he'll wreak havoc on the rest of the world in the meantime." Her eyes widened. "Unless...?"

The three boys turned on her. "What?" demanded Draco. "What is it?"

Ginny seemed to be puzzling over something in her mind. "If someone else offered themself as a sacrifice, they could take her place," she explained. "They could set things back to the way they were, only...they would have been the one who died that day, not Hermione."

There was a long moment of silence as everyone pondered this in their minds. Draco stepped forward. "Let me do it," he said.

Harry frowned at him. "Why should it be you?"

"Because I swore to Hermione a long time ago that I'd protect her," Draco informed him.

Harry folded his arms. "I swore that I'd protect her, too."

Frustrated, Draco shoved him in the chest. "You daft git, why are you fighting me on this? She loves you–she doesn't love me! So let me do this for her. I get to be the one that dies to save her and you get to be the one that holds her in your arms."

Harry was taken aback by this, but was far too proud to let Draco have the last word. "But who's to say that your sacrifice would even work? We can't just rush into this--"

"Stupefy! Stupefy!"

Stunned, both boys fell to the ground, their eyes rolling up to see Ron standing over them. He frowned at them, his eyes set with determination. "Sorry to steal all the thunder, boys," he said, "but I believe this is my show."

"Ron," Harry protested through barely opened lips, "you can't do this! You've got your family to think about, and we can't go on with out you--"

"Can't you?" There was a ghost of a smile on Ron's lips. "I think these past few months have proven that wrong. You barely even noticed I was there, Harry. You didn't need me anymore. Maybe I'm the one who was supposed to die that day all along. I'm the expendable one."

Ron turned to his sister, giving her a weak smile. "Ginny, I need you to tell Mum and Dad that I love them. And tell all the brothers, too, only don't make it too sappy, all right? I don't want to be remembered as a wanker."

Ginny smiled at him through tear-filled eyes. "Okay."

Ron hesitated. "And tell Lavender...tell her I wish I could've seen where it went. Oh, and make up something really heroic about how this was my destiny or something."

"All right."

He leaned in to hug her, then pulled back a moment later, staring into her eyes. "Gosh, you're pretty, Gin. I'm sorry I can't stick around for the rest. I love you."

"I love you, too."

And before Ron could react, Ginny had punched him in the jaw. Disoriented, he fell back, giving Ginny just enough time to pull out her wand. "Sorry about this," she said, and added, "Stupefy!"

As Ron fell to the ground with the others, Ginny moved so she was standing over them, hugging herself. "Ron, I want you to tell Mum and Dad and the boys all those things you said, okay? And don't blame yourself because you couldn't have realized I was going to do this. I didn't even realize it until a few minutes ago."

"Ginny," Ron begged through his frozen mouth, "don't do this! Let me take care of this!"

Ginny struggled to control her tears. "Can't do that Ron. You're not the expendable one– I am. Harry's always going to need a best friend, and Hermione's going to need someone to keep her in check. And the world needs you, 'cuz you're one of the last good ones."

She turned her gaze to Harry, and it was clear she was doing all she could do not to sob. "But from the moment I met him, I knew I was supposed to love Harry Potter for the rest of my life. I didn't understand it then– I thought that meant we were going to be together forever. But now I know. I'm the one who's supposed to let him live."

And with the others watching on, Ginny moved over to the cauldron, a determined gleam in her eye, and muttered the final incantation.

It was the night of graduation, and Dumbledore had certainly spared no expense at the lavish party being thrown at Hogwarts. Not only had most of the class graduated with remarkably high scores, but they had managed to defeat Voldemort once and for all.

As Harry sat out on the front steps, his mind returned to the final battle. Voldemort had used a spell to take him by the throat and had almost killed him. But then at the very last second, Ginny intervened, using some sort of magic that had been foreign to Harry's ears. When Voldemort had killed her, something snapped inside of Harry. He felt her power rushing into him, felt those foreign incantations rolling off his tongue as though it was meant to be, as though something had preordained that good would triumph that night, that Voldemort would be destroyed.

Still, he could not help but mourn the loss of Ginny. She had been his first love, the sweet red-haired, blue-eyed girl that was eternally loyal to him. He would always remember her, not only for saving the world, but for opening his heart up to the possibility of being loved again.

"This seat taken?"

Harry looked up to see his best friend Hermione Granger standing over him. She looked at home in her graduation robes; her parents had taken at least three dozen pictures that evening, and there was a smile permanently etched into her features. After the stress and sadness of the past few weeks, it was good to see her looking so happy.

"Be my guest," he said, scooting over to make room.

Hermione sat down next to him, carefully manuevering her broken arm so it wouldn't bump into anything. Madam Pomfrey had offered to fix it straight off, but in her stubborn way, Hermione had repeatedly refused; she said she didn't want to have the memories of that night erased too quickly from her mind. Harry found that he agreed with her.

"You know, there's a whole party inside," Hermione informed him. "Food, music...Snape is actually dancing. To the Macarena. I swear, I saw him do the hip shake and everything."

Harry laughed, shaking his head. "I thought we'd gotten over all of the horrors of the world."

Hermione laughed along with him, nudging him with her leg. "It wasn't that bad, really. His rhythm is shockingly good."

They sat like that for a moment longer, enjoying the quiet of the moment. Hermione turned to him finally. "How are you doing?"

"Me?" Harry shrugged. "I'm okay."

Hermione frowned at him. "Harry James Potter, don't do that 'I'm okay' business that you'd do with a complete stranger. I know you too well. Now how are you doing?"

"I think I'm really okay, Hermione," he said, more slowly this time. "I mean, I still think about it. I'm glad that Voldemort's gone, once and for good. I'm sad that there ever had to be a person like Voldemort in this world. I miss Ginny."

He paused, swallowing down the lump that formed in his throat. "But I think...I think this was the way it was supposed to be, you know? I think that, wherever Ginny is, she's happy."

Hermione reached out, squeezing his hand. "I think so, too." She paused for a moment. "Listen, Ron's inside waiting for us. He made me promise to get you in time for the Hippogriff dance."

"Hippogriff dance?" Harry repeated. "What on earth is that?"

"I think it's the wizard version of the chicken dance," Hermione returned. She rose to her feet, still holding his hand. "Come on, I think it'll be fun, don't you?"

Harry looked up, saw the smile on her face, felt the coolness of the night and how right it felt to hold her hand in his. With a start, he saw a sudden flash of things to come: stolen glances, shy walks late at night, tentative first kisses, arguments, pledges of love and devotion. And without any rhyme or reason, he felt somehow that it would all be okay in the end, as long as he had her with him.

"Yeah," he said finally, rising to his feet after her, "sounds like fun."

The End

Author's Note: Wow, that took forever to finish. Writer's block-- gotta hate it. Anyway, thanks for all the wonderful reviews over these past several months. You don't know how much that motivated me to actually finish this. Once again, thanks for all, and see you all at Barnes and Noble when the sixth book comes out!


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